


and then came the thunder

by shalbi



Category: ATEEZ (Band), Stray Kids (Band), The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: (one of them is dead for the majority of this sorry in advance), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Blatant disregard for accurate royal and noble titles, Blood Magic, Don't be afraid of the Major Character Death tag, Eventual Happy Ending, Ghosts, He gets better, I lied about the Major Character Death thing sorry, I promise, M/M, Murder, Mutilation, Necromancy, No historical research we die like men, Political Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Sort Of, but make it ~sexy, inspired by the MAMAs Kingdom stage, look the necromancy tag is there for a reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalbi/pseuds/shalbi
Summary: As crown prince of the middle kingdom, Juyeon thought he knew what responsibilities lay in store for him when he reached adulthood: a political marriage, the military command of his own company, and a life of bartering alliances with the surrounding kingdoms.His fiancé's brutal murder derails those plans, somewhat.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin, Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Choi Chanhee | New/Kim Younghoon, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 95
Kudos: 221





	1. beast dormant

**Author's Note:**

> The MAMAs Kingdom stage got me all kinds of messed up. 
> 
> Find me at @shalbi_soko on Twitter dot com. 
> 
> Updates will depend on how much of my soul is left after work each week.

##    
  


For the sixth time in as many days, Juyeon awoke to the sounds of screaming.

For a moment, he let himself imagine a different life, with a different fiancé, different responsibilities, and some different fucking friends. Maybe some who actually slept past six am once in a while. That glorious daydream was shattered by his bedroom doors slamming open, Changmin and Sunwoo tumbling into his room in a flurry of limbs. 

"Really?" he groaned into his pillow, and resigned himself to the fact that his day had officially started. A bony body collapsed on top of him, Changmin yelling his greetings directly into his ear.

"And why," Juyeon said, hauling himself over and sending Changmin crashing to the ground, "are we yelling today?"

Sunwoo's sweet face peered down at him, a mug of dark tea steaming in his hand. Juyeon accepted it with a begrudging "thank you" muttered into the porcelain. 

"The eastern king arrives this afternoon!" Changmin chirped happily from his spot on the ground. "All of your father’s men are moping around like he’s invited the downfall of the nation to dinner, someone in this palace should be excited!"

"Could you not be excited _after_ sunrise?" Juyeon mumbled, and promptly burnt his tongue. 

"I wonder what they're like," Changmin said, scrambling to his feet and burying himself beneath Juyeon's duvet. Sunwoo perched on the end of Juyeon's bed prodding at the Changmin-shaped lump.

"My mother says they're all bloodthirsty, warmongering hell-beasts," Sunwoo said, and snickered when one sharp poke made Changmin squeal. 

"Aunt Hyewon also says that the south is full of ghosts who eat your eyes if you stare at them too long," Juyeon pointed out, and Sunwoo stuck his tongue out at him. 

"Is it true that they wear the aged skin of their dead enemies as jackets?" Changmin asked, poking his head out. Juyeon nodded solemnly.

"And they eat the kidneys of irritating aristocrats' sons as an afternoon snack," he said, and Changmin threw a truly devastating pout up at him. 

"Don't be mean," he said. "It's already bad enough that we're not allowed at the feast tonight."

"Which we still hate you for, by the way," Sunwoo added. Juyeon shrugged, gulping down the last of the tea, and was hit by a mouthful of undissolved sugar. Grimacing, he handed the mug back to his disgruntled cousin.

"It's my father's decision, not mine," he said, finally getting out of bed. "The two of you are still too young."

"I'm older than Eric!" Changmin protested. "Why does that infant get to go?"

"I'll tell you what," Juyeon said as he tugged on a cobalt blue robe. "When you are a prince of the blood, you can attend all the international peace conferences you want. I wish you luck trying to convince Advisor Lee that this alliance is actually a good thing."

Changmin threw a pillow at him, which sailed past Juyeon by a good three feet. He watched it hit the floor with a sad _flump_. 

"Pick that up before you leave," Juyeon said, and hurried out of his room before either of them could complain further.

Away from the relative peace of his bedroom, the entire palace was already in chaos. Attendants scuttled back and forth, arms weighed down with bouquets of flowers and freshly laundered linen. Juyeon passed his older brother, who was trying desperately to convince his toddler to put her pants on. 

"Morning," Juyeon said, and Sangyeon swore at him. 

"Good morning, Jihae," Juyeon said, crouching down in front of his niece. She beamed up at him and reached up to grab a handful of his hair. He patiently allowed her to tug at it until it stuck out in about five different directions, before standing and pretending to check his reflection in the medals on Sangyeon's uniform.

"Perfection," he declared, and Jihae gurgled happily. Taking advantage of his distracted daughter, Sangyeon swooped down and wrestled her squirming legs into her pants, high-fiving Juyeon in triumph once he got the waistband over her behind.

"I don't suppose you've seen my wayward fiancé?" Juyeon said, gently poking the dimple in Jihae's round cheek. Sangyeon snorted and scooped her up into his arms.

"Last I saw, he was in the kitchens, trying to harangue one of the cooks into making pancakes." 

Juyeon rolled his eyes. 

"Of course he is," he muttered. Sangyeon grinned and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. 

"Patience is one of the many things you'll learn when married," Sangyeon said brightly, and then winced as Jihae accidentally elbowed him in the throat.

Juyeon waved at his niece as he set off down the hall, narrowly avoiding knocking a tiny attendant down the grand staircase. True to form, Hyunjae was in the kitchens, still in his sleep clothes, his silky robe slipping off one shoulder as he pleaded with a frazzled-looking Minyoung. 

"I can't make you special breakfasts every morning, Jae," she said, resting a tray of unbaked bread rolls on one hip. "If you're really hungry, go to the dining room and eat what's there."

Hyunjae collapsed dramatically against a counter, knocking over several jars of spices and almost sending his mug of something green and steaming falling to the ground. 

“But my soul craves pancakes,” he said, resting a hand over his heart. “And who am I to deny her what she wants?” 

Minyoung rolled her eyes and ignored him in favor of slipping the tray into a nearby oven. 

“I’m sure your soul will survive one day without three liters of syrup coating your insides,” Juyeon said, and he watched as Hyunjae stiffened and pushed himself up off the counter. The teasing gleam to his eyes had vanished, replaced by a wary veneer of politeness, and he bowed his head as the rest of the kitchen ground to halt. 

“Your grace,” he mumbled, and was echoed, with significantly more enthusiasm, by the cooks and assistants around them. Juyeon smiled warmly and waved them on, the bustle of the kitchen returning as everyone got back to their work. Hyunjae remained where he stood, his eyes fixed on a stain on the floor. Juyeon took this moment of rare stillness from his fiancé to inspect him carefully. 

His warm blond hair was rumpled from sleep, falling attractively over his eyes. There was a faint, pink mark on one cheek from where he had rested his head on his pillow, and his robe, barely clinging to his shoulders, revealed smooth, unblemished skin and the graceful swoop of a collarbone. Not for the first time, Juyeon found himself struck still by how beautiful his fiancé was. 

And then he opened his mouth. 

“Have you seen my complete asshole of a brother at all this morning?” 

The illusion shattered, Juyeon shook his head, looking around hopefully for some more tea. He heard Hyunjae sigh and grumble under his breath, and turned around just as Hyunjae snuck up behind him, leaving them standing alarmingly close for Before Seven O’ Clock. 

“And how is your grace doing this morning?” Hyunjae purred, a teasing smirk in the corners of his mouth. Juyeon jerked back automatically, heat rising in his face as he backed away from him. Hyunjae snickered at whatever his facial expression was doing, and grabbed his half-finished cup of mystery green liquid. 

“I’m off to prepare for the welcoming party,” he said with a wave. “If you see Kevin, please let him know that he’s dead to me.” 

“Will do,” Juyeon managed, and Hyunjae sent him one last enigmatic smile before leaving the kitchen. Juyeon found himself staring at the spot he had been standing in for a long, long time. 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Minyoung said, sliding over a fresh cup of tea. “Life with that one won't ever be boring.” 

She giggled at his helpless expression, and gently smoothed down his rumpled robe. 

“Off you go,” she said. “Busy day ahead.” 

“Please pray for me,” Juyeon said hollowly, grasping his hot tea in his hands. She tucked his hair behind his ear, then gently pinched his cheek. 

“I always do,” she said. “Now get the fuck out of my kitchens, your grace.” 

  
  
  


Juyeon shifted his weight from one hip to the other, trying to disguise how fidgety he felt amongst everyone gathered in the reception hall in anticipation of their guests’ arrival. The brocade on his coat stabbed into his neck every time he turned his head to the left, and he was pretty sure he was wearing Haknyeon’s boots, but Juyeon plastered on his public smile and stood obediently at his father’s side. 

Kevin and Hyunjae were two of the last to arrive, both shining in their family colors of warm ivory and gold. They entered the hall bickering, pausing only to bow to Juyeon’s father before taking their place with the rest of the royal family. 

“You should have asked me before doing that to your hair-” 

“No, you would have tried to stop me-”

“Yes I would have, because it looks stupid-” 

“Gentlemen,” the queen said sharply, and they both fell silent. Juyeon saw several of his father’s advisors shake their heads at the two margraves’ behavior, and pressed his lips together to hide a smile. A hushed murmur rolled through the crowd as a herald took his place at the palace doors, the mark of Hermes emblazoned on his coat. 

“Your majesty,” he boomed. “Respected members of the court. It is my honor to introduce the lord of the ashen mountains, protector of the eternal fire, and revered servant of his master Ares, god of War: Chan, the great king of the east!” 

“What a mouthful,” Juyeon heard someone (Hyunjae) mutter, but it was lost as the massive palace doors were thrown open and their guests were shown inside. 

Much to his consternation, the warrior king of the eastern capital was every inch as intimidating as Juyeon had been led to believe. 

Dressed in gold and dark leather and scarlet furs, Chan's mere presence commanded the attention of the room when he entered, drawing the appreciative eye of the entire court (including, Juyeon noted sourly, that of his fiancé) as he and his party strode into the reception hall. He was broad-shouldered and sharp-jawed and overall considerably more handsome than a bloodthirsty, warmongering hell-beast had any right to be. Juyeon felt his father tense up next to him as the eastern king drew near, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw his mother slip her hand into his father's own.

"Your grace," King Junhee said, bowing his head respectfully as Chan approached. Juyeon did the same, keeping his eyes on the men before him.

On either side of Chan stood two equally beautiful men, both dressed in the same leather and furs as their king. One, the sides of his long blond hair braided neatly away from his face, had two swords strapped to his back, his hand resting on the pommel of a third at his hip. The other, smaller, with soft silver hair and eyes rimmed in kohl, wore a circlet of gold about his head, marking him as the king's consort. He bore no visible weapons, hands instead occupied by a strange deck of cards he seemed to be shuffling unconsciously. Juyeon caught a flash of gold around his wrists as his sleeves moved, and glanced questioningly at Sangyeon.

Sangyeon pursed his lips and nodded, a surreptitious tilt of his head. Good. He had seen the chains, too, then. 

“The master of the fire fields sends his apologies,” Chan said, bowing his head in return. “There was some crisis or another in the south of my country that commanded his attention. He and his men will only make it by tomorrow morning at the earliest.” 

King Junhee laughed dismissively, stepping down to clasp Chan’s hand with his own. 

“It is no matter,” he said, and gestured to the large doors of the dining hall. “Come, we have a feast awaiting you and your party. The journey must have been tiring.” 

Juyeon tried to put himself between the newcomers and Hyunjae as they turned to walk into the hall, but Hyunjae was having none of it. His curiosity peaked, he ducked behind Haknyeon and evaded Juyeon’s grasp, sidling up instead to the blond guard and slipping on a sultry smile. To his credit, the man looked more amused than intrigued, and patiently allowed Hyunjae to link their arms together as they walked. Juyeon felt his face twist into a sulky frown, and looked away when Hyunjae met his eyes. 

“You really should put a leash on that boy,” came the voice of his sister in law, and Juyeon stifled a long-suffering sigh. 

“Trust me,” he said, offering his arm to Soohee, “I’ve considered it several times since he got here.” 

Hyunjae’s loud laughter cut through the air, and Juyeon gritted his teeth. 

“Maybe add a muzzle,” Soohee said sweetly, and the two of them cackled quietly as everyone took their seats. Sangyeon shot them both a suspicious glare, and Juyeon sent his brother back his widest, most innocent smile. Kevin settled on Juyeon’s other side, his gaze fixed on his headstrong brother, who had taken it upon himself to sit with the delegation from the east. The soldier he had captured appeared entirely bemused by Hyunjae’s continued presence, watching him chatter away with a small grin on his face as the two kings took their places at the head of the hall. 

“He’s going to get himself into trouble,” Kevin muttered, and threw Juyeon a baleful look. “Why aren’t you doing something about him?”

Juyeon snorted, reaching for his wine glass and holding it up to be filled by one of the many attendants. 

“If I have learnt anything in the last four months,” he said, taking a sip and letting the smooth, rich red wine slip down his throat. ‘It’s that Hyunjae does exactly what he wants to do, when he wants to do it, and not even marriage will put a stop to that.” 

“Well,” Kevin said, resting his elbows on the table and sinking his face into his hands, “when his big mouth gets him killed, at least we’ll all be able to say I told you so.” 

“I’ll be the first in line,” Juyeon teased with a wink, and around them, the feast began. 

  
  
  


Halfway through dessert, Hyunjae decided to grace them all with his presence, bowing respectfully as Soohee took her leave. He collapsed into her newly vacated seat, eyes shining, and leaned forward conspiratorially, as though getting ready to spill the nation’s secrets. 

“What the hell have you been doing?” Kevin snapped, dragging his gaze away from a handsome soldier near the back of the hall and pointing at his brother accusingly with his fork. Hyunjae leaned across Juyeon and stole the peach slice off of said fork with his teeth, making deliberate eye contact with Juyeon as he bit down. Juyeon stared back stonily. 

“I,” Hyunjae said grandly, “have been doing research.” 

Across the table, Chanhee laughed delicately. 

“Groping a guard is not research,” he said, spooning a small amount of creamy ice-cream into his mouth. A spot landed on the swell of his bottom lip, and he carefully licked it away. Next to him, Younghoon sat staring up at the ceiling as though praying for salvation, his hand clenched tightly around his wine glass.

“His name,” Hyunjae said, ignoring Chanhee and reaching for the bowl of peaches, “is Hyunjin.” 

Their table fell silent. 

“ _Hwang_ Hyunjin?” Haknyeon asked, awestruck. “The Hurricane?” 

“The very same,” Hyunjae said, and looked extremely pleased with himself when their group erupted into chaos. 

“I heard he drove off the northern vanguard singlehandedly-”

“I heard his blades were forged by Ares himself-” 

“I heard they carry the blood of the eternal fire in their steel-” 

“I heard that he only ever draws a sword when he intends for someone to die. He doesn’t even train with them-” 

“I heard he fought off seven ice demons at once-” 

“Ice demons aren’t real, Eric.” 

“How do you know, you’ve never seen one-”

“Neither have you, idiot.” 

“I heard that he’s taken blades meant for the king straight to the heart and walked it off as though they were mere splinters.”

The table once again fell silent as they all turned to stare at the men across the hall. Hyunjin seemed completely unsurprised by their sudden attention, waving cheerfully at them with his spoon. To his growing disapproval, Juyeon caught Hyunjae waving back, his flirty smile back on his face. 

“Thought he was just _research_ ,” Juyeon grumbled, and Hyunjae rolled his eyes. 

“It’s called being polite, your grace,” Hyunjae said. “Try it sometime, you might make friends.” 

“What else did you learn?” Kevin interrupted, resting a placating hand on Juyeon’s arm before he could strangle his fiancé. Hyunjae popped another peach slice into his mouth, and pointed to the young man sitting next to Hyunjin. In a departure from most of his company, he wore soft ivory leathers and furs, a sash of scarlet over one shoulder. He was gesturing wildly to his companions, eyes bright and wild and, from where Juyeon sat, a little unhinged. 

“That’s Han Jisung,” Hyunjae said. “Representative of the temple of Ares. He’s a little… much.” 

“Says you,” Kevin muttered, and slid the bowl of peaches out of Hyunjae’s reach. Hyunjae scowled at his brother, and turned his attention instead to the bottle of sweet, dark brandy on the table. 

“Next to him is Seo Changbin,” Hyunjae continued. “Lord of the mountain temples, and the king’s closest advisor.” 

Seo Changbin was watching Jisung talk, a faint look of irritation on his face as the other man’s movements grew in exaggeration. He jerked back as Jisung accidentally knocked over a jug of wine, and the pained look of frustration made Juyeon bite down a smile. 

“The rest are Hyunjin’s men,” Hyunjae said, pouring himself a glass of brandy that turned out far too full for Juyeon’s liking. “None of status or importance, but all appear very quick-witted. Stupidity does not seem something highly tolerated in that army.” 

“And him?” Eric asked, pointing not so subtly to the king’s consort. He sat quietly next to his husband at the head table, silver head bowed, eyes focused on the plate in front of him. His face seemed somewhat flushed, which wasn’t surprising given the thick furs draped over his shoulders. His body gave a sudden, small jolt, as though he’d been pinched, and it took Juyeon a moment to figure out why. 

“Oh,” Juyeon said faintly, feeling the heat rise in his face. 

“Wow,” Kevin said. “In front of your father and everything.” 

“It doesn’t look like his king cares who sees,” Chanhee said. 

Chan, deep in conversation with Juyeon’s father, had one hand under the table, and it wasn’t hard to figure out exactly what it was doing there once you factored in his consort’s face. The young man looked somewhat overwhelmed, his grip on his fork getting tighter as Chan’s hand moved, and Juyeon had to force himself to look away to allow him some dignity. 

“How long have they been wed?” he asked instead, elbowing Hyunjae, whose eyes were still fixated on the two men. To his surprise, Hyunjae jerked and blushed when he realized he had been caught, and he pointedly avoided Juyeon’s eyes as he cleared his throat. 

“A little over a year,” Hyunjae said. “Felix was brought in from the fire fields to assist in some matter for the court, and apparently the king was smitten the moment he laid eyes on him.” 

“Aww,” said Haknyeon wistfully. 

“Gross,” said Kevin, and went back to staring at Juyeon’s lieutenant, who had remained dutifully at his post by the door the entire evening. 

“The offer to introduce you still stands,” Juyeon said quietly, and Kevin shuddered, tossing back the last mouthful of wine in his cup. 

“I would rather have my kneecaps pried off with a rusted battle axe.” 

“I’m sure he doesn’t know the lake incident was you.” 

“There’s always a chance, and that is not something I am willing to risk.” 

A sudden murmur of noise from the head table drew Juyeon’s attention, and the dining hall fell silent as King Junhee got to his feet. 

“My lords, my ladies, and our most honored guests,” he said, voice strong and captivating, “I thank you for your presence tonight, and look forward to the good work the alliance of our two kingdoms will produce. For now, however, I bid you all a pleasant evening. The gardens and galleries are open - please feel free to spend the rest of your night exploring our beloved home.” 

Juyeon and his brothers got to their feet, the entire hall turning to them as they raised their wine glasses. King Junhee raised his in return. 

“May Helios continue to shine upon this middle kingdom,” he called, and his sons echoed, Juyeon’s voice carrying above them all. With that final blessing, the feast was over, Hyunjae leaping to his feet and immediately flitting across the hall to Hyunjin’s side. Juyeon watched him go, a bitter feeling rising in his chest. 

“You know,” Sangyeon said quietly, “you’d be justified in commanding him to stay away from them.” 

Juyeon shook his head, helping a tipsy Kevin to his feet. 

“He already resents the engagement,” Juyeon said. “I don’t need him resenting me, too.” 

“You’re his future husband, Juyeon-” 

“Yes,” Juyeon interrupted. “Which means that, at some point, we need to start trusting each other. I might as well start now. He knows what his responsibilities dictate, he won’t do anything that will bring shame upon this court.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Sangyeon said, and they watch Chan’s men leave the hall, Hyunjae plastered firmly to Hyunjin’s side. 

  
  
  


The evening air was pleasant enough to draw Juyeon outside, Kevin leaning heavily against his side as they walked the gardens. They passed several couples settled on the benches, the candlelight and scent of jasmine a perfect backdrop for romance. As entertaining as Kevin’s company was, Juyeon couldn't help but imagine a different man on his arm, tall and blond and sharp-tongued. Their wedding may have still been several months out, but Juyeon ached to win Hyunjae over. Their marriage was political, yes, but Juyeon was determined to at least try to build some affection between them.

His grumpiness must have been showing on his face, for Kevin suddenly halted their slow, aimless stroll, and tugged Juyeon down a different route. Unfortunately, his wine-addled brain didn't plan for the narrower, sharply winding path, and, with a sigh, Juyeon hauled Kevin onto his back, hooking his arms beneath Kevin's knees. 

"Well, this is embarrassing," Kevin mumbled into Juyeon's shoulder. Juyeon laughed and shook his head.

"I used to carry Eric around like this," he said, ducking beneath a willow tree so Kevin wouldn't get smacked in the face. "When we were children, he always wanted to go off on some adventure in the grounds, but would get tired about twenty minutes in and demand to be carried."

Kevin laughed sleepily. "Sounds about right."

Juyeon slowed his walk as they came upon a large fountain, the trickle of water strangely loud this far from the palace and her roaming guests. At first, Juyeon thought they were alone, the candles flickering in the faint evening breeze. He was about to let Kevin back to his feet when Kevin's arms suddenly tightened around him.

"We need to leave," Kevin hissed in his ear. "Quick, before they notice us."

Juyeon's eyes strained to see into the shadows surrounding the fountain, and he was just about to give up and ask Kevin who exactly he was talking about, when his eyes fell upon two figures, balanced on a stone bench beneath one of the flowering cherry trees. At first, it was easy enough to pretend the two men were simply sharing a particularly passionate embrace, but the pile of leather and fur on the ground by Chan’s feet ruined that illusion rather quickly. Astride his lap, Felix panted and whined sweetly into his husband’s shoulder as he rode him, thighs splayed open and gleaming wet with oil, knees digging painfully into the cold stone of the bench’s surface. The only thing remaining on his body were the twin chains of gold around each wrist, flashing now and then in the dim light the candles provided. The king’s hands gripped Felix’s hips tightly, guiding his movements as the king himself remained completely silent, eyes closed in pleasure. 

“Juyeon!” Kevin hissed again, and Juyeon snapped out of whatever reverie he had been caught in and hastily stumbled out into the darkness once more. He marched the two of them back towards the glowing light of the palace doors, Kevin quiet and trembling at his back, and he set him down once they were back inside. The two of them stared at each other awkwardly for what felt like a century, before Kevin swallowed thickly and held out a hand. 

“We saw nothing,” he intoned, and Juyeon, still feeling somewhat adrift, shook his hand in agreement. 

“We saw nothing,” he repeated. “We were never in the gardens.” 

“Didn’t even know we _had_ gardens,” Kevin said, and then turned on his heel and scurried away, his bright pink face vanishing down the closest hallway. Juyeon allowed himself a moment to breathe, a wild, scandalized feeling filling his chest, before he burst into mildly hysterical laughter. An attendant carrying a tray of water glasses glanced at him in concern, but he waved the boy away, still chuckling to himself. 

“Time for bed, your grace?” came a soft voice, and Juyeon grinned at his lieutenant. 

“I think so, Jacob,” he said, laughter still bubbling in his throat. “It’s been that sort of night.” 

Juyeon pretended not to notice the way Jacob’s eyes traveled to the hallway Kevin had vanished down, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, and bade the man good night. 

Trudging up three flights of stairs gave Juyeon plenty of time to calm down, and by the time he made it to the northern wing of the palace, exhilarated disbelief had given way to a bone-deep exhaustion. All he wanted at that moment was a set of clean sleeping clothes, the warm embrace of his bed, and about twelve hours of sleep. And maybe a glass of water. The wine had left his teeth feeling fuzzy. 

His gentle good mood was abruptly ruined as he turned a corner, coming face to face with the soldier Hyunjin and his fiancé, pressed close in an alcove as they exchanged words in the shadows. Humiliation, the wine, and something he refused to admit was jealousy, exploded in his chest, a fire he had never felt before that fueled the next words that came from his mouth. 

“So it's true what the whispers of the court say, then?” he spat, voice loud and harsh in the quiet of the hall. "I'm marrying a whore."

Hyunjae jumped in surprise, eyes wide as they fell upon Juyeon, which quickly narrowed as he realized what Juyeon had said. 

“Is it exhausting, your grace?” he snarled, getting to his feet and straightening his coat. The intricate lace strained across his broad shoulders, and Juyeon had to force himself to focus on the mess at hand. “Always jumping to conclusions?” 

“Tell me how else I am supposed to interpret my fiancé spending the night pressed up against a stranger like a cat in heat?” Juyeon said. “I’m surprised I didn’t find you bent over the nearest flat surface, begging for him to take you.” An unexpected look of hurt flashed across Hyunjae’s face, which was immediately replaced by fury. 

“At least he pays attention to me when I speak!” he snapped. “I have been here for over four months and you still don’t know anything about me!”

“I-” Juyeon’s anger deflated a little, almost as quickly as it had grown. “That’s not true-” 

“Yes, it is,” Hyunjae said, stepping forward. “The only time you ever speak to me is to berate me for not behaving the way you think I should. It took me weeks to actually get you to even look at me when Kevin and I first arrived.”

“It was a difficult adjustment-”

“Yes, it was,” Hyunjae interrupted, and Juyeon was horrified to see the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes. “My brother and I were sent miles from home to live with a family we had never met and a man who didn’t want me. You don’t get to explain how _difficult_ it was.” 

“Hyunjae-” 

“So please, your grace, forgive me for finding some delight in an attractive man who actually enjoys my company,” Hyunjae said, chest heaving with exertion. “I have not betrayed our engagement, Juyeon, but you’re starting to make me wish I had.” 

And with that, he stormed off down the hall to his rooms, his shoulders hunched over protectively. Juyeon stood, cemented in place, as the reality of what he had said came crashing down. 

“Your grace,” Hyunjin said carefully, “I can promise you that neither of us had any intentions beyond friendship this evening.” 

Juyeon closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them until colors burst into life behind his eyelids. 

“I know,” he said, and hated how defeated he sounded. 

“Your lover and I-”

“He’s not my lover,” Juyeon interrupted, and he opened his eyes in time to see Hyunjin frown. 

“But you want him to be,” Hyunjin said. “I saw the way you looked at him, even when you thought he had betrayed you.” Juyeon forced a small smile. 

“Well,” he said, “I don’t see that happening any time soon after what I just did.” 

Hyunjin smiled sympathetically, then placed his clenched fist across his chest and bowed. 

“Good night, your grace,” he said. “Maybe things will be better in the morning, when everyone’s heads are a little clearer.” 

Juyeon bows his head in return. 

“I appreciate the optimism,” he said, and allowed Hyunjin to pass him, the faint scent of Hyunjae’s cologne lingering in the air. 

  
  
  
  


For the seventh time in as many days, Juyeon awoke to the sound of screaming. 

He groaned into his pillow, the events of the night before coming back in flashes, and was ready to bury himself in his blankets for the entire duration of the day when he realized the screams sounded different. 

They were not the familiar screams of his cousins, thundering about the palace in search of entertainment. Nor were they the cries of his niece, demanding food or attention. There was an edge of horror to these screams, something pained and awful in the way they tore themselves from their creator’s throat, and Juyeon fought his way out of bed, an unnerving emotion buzzing under his skin. 

He threw open his bedroom doors and almost barreled straight into Younghoon, dressed in his field uniform, his sword firmly at his side. A dark expression had made its home on his friend’s face, which twisted strangely when he saw Juyeon. 

“Your grace-” 

“No,” Juyeon interrupted. “You never call me that, what’s wrong? Who’s screaming like that?” 

Down the hall, the screaming continued, twisted around bone-deep sobs that sent shivers down Juyeon’s spine. Younghoon tried to seize him as he set off to investigate, but Juyeon was too quick and too determined, and he easily escaped Younghoon’s grasp. 

Mounting fear grew in Juyeon’s mind as he made his way to the permanent guest rooms, passing more and more people gathered in the halls, until Sangyeon appeared in front of him, his face ashen and his hand trembling where it gripped his sword’s pommel for comfort. . 

“Juyeon, you don’t need to see this,” he said, and the pain in his voice made Juyeon stop. “Jacob is taking care of him, please, just turn around and go to your mother - she’s waiting for you in her chambers.” 

“Sangyeon, what-” 

A heart wrenching wail of pure agony cut through the air, and Juyeon’s heart almost stuttered to a complete stop as he realized who he was hearing. 

“Sangyeon,” he said slowly. “Please tell me that’s not Kevin.” 

Sangyeon’s face crumpled, and this time he didn’t try to stop Juyeon as he hurried down the hall. With one final turn, he saw him. 

Kevin sat on the floor in front of Hyunjae’s bedroom door, his slim body wracked with painful sobs, voice hoarse as he screamed and cried and cursed the gods. His sleep shirt was covered in blood, his face pale and soaked with tears, and the building sense of foreboding in Juyeon’s gut grew to a crescendo. 

“What happened?” he croaked out, and Jacob looked up from where he was trying to convince Kevin to breathe. 

“Your grace-”

“What happened, Jacob?” 

Hyunjae’s bedroom doors opened, and Juyeon’s father stepped out, his slippers leaving bloody footprints on the carpet. Dread filled every inch of Juyeon’s body as he stepped forward, and his father moved aside, allowing him into Hyunjae’s room. 

“We’ll find whoever did this, Juyeon,” his father said quietly. “This will not go unavenged.” 

His heart in his throat, Juyeon stepped into the bedroom. Whatever he thought he was expecting to see, reality was a million times worse. 

The carpet all around Hyunjae’s bed was soaked red, the bed sheets torn and burnt and caked in dirt and blood. Glass from the shattered windows threw strange patterns of light across Hyunjae’s desecrated body, his eyes open and staring unseeingly at an unknown horror. His throat was torn open, his chest ripped apart as though a beast had tried to get to his delicate insides, and the flesh at his wrists and ankles was charred and oozing blood. A strange symbol was seared into the palm of his right hand, the skin around it blackened from the heat. In what appeared to be one last mockery of his life, his lips were flushed and bitten, as though he’d been thoroughly kissed by whomever had set out to murder him. 

It was this hint of warped intimacy that finally broke Juyeon down, and he sank to the floor with a sharp cry of pain. His father’s hands caught him immediately, drawing him into the warm embrace he hadn’t felt since he was a child. 

“We’ll find them, Juyeonie,” his father repeated, gently rocking him back and forth. Kevin’s cries cut off abruptly behind them as the shock finally took hold, but Juyeon couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he gripped his father tight and allowed the tears burning his eyes to fall. The king didn’t try to stop them, raising a hand to his son’s head and gently stroking his hair, murmuring over and over.

“We’ll find them.” 


	2. south

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bells are inspired by garth nix's abhorsen/the old kingdom series. they function differently in my universe, in large part because i read those books like 15 years ago and honestly all i can remember is that There Were Bells At Some Point. 
> 
> updated tags warning for blood/blood-related magic.

  
  


“You’re insane-” 

“You’ve completely lost your mind-” 

“No-one returns from crossing the river, your grace, we’d be sending you off to your death-” 

“There’s a reason the southern border is off limits-” 

“The kingdom can’t lose their crown prince so soon after losing a betrothal-” 

“We know you’re hurting, but Juyeon-” 

“Enough!” Juyeon barked, and his friends and family around him fell silent. His hands shook as he held up a signed declaration from his father, granting him permission to travel to the kingdom of the dead, and Chanhee swore. 

“I cannot believe the king’s agreed to this-” 

“How is he okay with letting you die-?” 

“This is madness-” 

“This is happening,” Juyeon snapped, slamming the paper down on his desk. “The longer we wait, the harder it will be for the necromancers to find his soul. I need to do this, with or without your support.” 

“And what will you do, once you’ve found one willing to summon him?” Sangyeon said, holding up his hands defensively when Juyeon turned his poisonous glare on him. “You say this will help find his murderer, but what if he didn’t see them? What if they killed him while he slept?” 

“You will have offered yourself to the king of death all for nothing,” Eric said, voice small and sad. 

Juyeon’s burning conviction wavered, ever so slightly. 

“I-” he said, and he coughed as his voice died in his throat. “I have to try.” 

His eyes fell upon Kevin, dressed in his stark white mourning silks, who sat on the window seat of Juyeon’s study, gazing blankly out the large window. He hadn’t moved since they’d gathered there after the funeral, remaining utterly silent while they fought. 

“Margrave?” Juyeon said hesitantly, and Kevin tilted his head to show that he was listening. “I need you to have a say in this, Kevin. He was your brother before he was my fiancé. I won’t go if you want him to be left in peace.”

Kevin shuddered, a full-body tremble that was painful just to witness. 

“How could he possibly be at peace?” Kevin rasped out. “You saw how he died. No-one goes into the next life at peace when this one ends so violently.” 

“Will you let me go?” Juyeon asked, and Kevin finally turned to face them. His eyes were bloodshot, deep dark shadows beneath them from lack of sleep, and he was so pale he looked as though he had already passed on to join his brother. As much pain as Juyeon had felt these last three days, he knew it couldn’t come close to the ache that had taken up residence inside Kevin’s heart. Without thinking, he stood and stumbled over to Kevin’s side, dropping to his knees in front of him and taking one of his icy hands in his own. 

“Please, Hyungseo,” he said quietly. “I need to do this. You know what I said to him that night - I can’t let those be my last words to him. I need to say a proper goodbye. He deserves justice."

“Yes,” Kevin said eventually. “Yes, you should go.” 

His other hand came to rest lightly upon Juyeon’s head. 

“Go, and find out who did that to him so I can kill the bastard myself.” 

  
  


Juyeon had just finished lacing up his boots when the doors to his bedroom slammed open. 

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Sunwoo said, face pink with fury. "No-one ever comes back from the kingdom of the dead-"

"I've heard it all already, Sunwoo," Juyeon interrupted wearily. "I'm going, end of story."

Sunwoo's face crumpled, and he sank to the ground next to Juyeon's face and planted his face against Juyeon's thigh. 

"You can't," he said, and his voice cracked. Juyeon swallowed down the lump in his face and curled over to hug Sunwoo as tightly as he could. 

"I'm not going alone," he murmured. "Younghoon will be with me, he'll keep me safe." 

Sunwoo sniffed wetly. 

"If you're not back in a month, I'm gonna yell at uncle Junhee 'til he sends a search party."

Juyeon laughed and gave Sunwoo a final squeeze. 

"I'm sure he'd love that," he said, and got to his feet. “Do you know where he is?” 

Sunwoo nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“The court demanded the arrest of the entire eastern delegation,” Sunwoo said. “I saw them and their armed guards heading to the guest rooms on the way here.” 

Juyeon froze. 

“ _What_?” 

Sunwoo shakily got to his feet. 

“They think the king had something to do with Hyunjae’s death,” he said, and Juyeon didn’t linger long enough to hear anything further. He sprinted out the door, taking a sharp right and running down the hall. 

Two flights of stairs and a close call with an alarmed attendant later, he came skidding to a halt in front of their visiting guest suite, just in time to see a snarling Hyunjin throw one of his father’s men straight through the large double doors. Hyunjin was dressed simply, barefoot and hair hanging loose, a light shirt of ivory linen and the tightest pair of leather trousers Juyeon had ever seen on a human being, and yet the venomous gleam in his eyes promised bloodshed, regardless of his unarmed state. Blood dripped down the side of his face from a cut across his eyebrow, and his knuckles were bruised and swollen. 

“Hyunjin-!” he called, and the man swung around wildly, as though expecting another attack. Surprised crossed his face as he saw Juyeon, but that was just the opportunity the king’s men needed to take him down. A soldier slammed his boot into the back of Hyunjin’s knee, a loud crack splitting the air, and Hyunjin sank to the ground with a wretched cry of pain. Juyeon watched in horrified guilt as several more men swarmed around him, their swords drawn and held to his throat. 

“Stop this!” came the booming voice of the king, and relief flooded Juyeon’s veins as his father stepped out the door. But he wasn’t alone. 

The shirtless and bleeding eastern king followed him out, head held high and jaw locked as he was escorted from his bedroom. His husband came next, mouth bloodied and eyes fixed on the guards ahead of him. He was dressed in his sheer nightclothes, seeming utterly un-self conscious at his barely concealed nudity, even as the soldiers who held him both seemed to be desperately trying to look elsewhere. 

“Father,” Juyeon called out, and he saw the king close his eyes at the sound of his voice. 

“Juyeon-”

“You can’t believe they had something to do with this,” Juyeon said, elbowing his way past several affronted-looking advisors. “No human being could have done that to him. Half of his men didn’t even arrive until- until after. They _all_ paid their respects at the funeral - they _all_ sacrificed to Helios, you can’t-” 

“Any man can put on a convincing act when he needs to, young prince,” sneered Advisor Lee. “A king, even more so.” 

“They came here for _peace_ -” 

“They came,” interrupted Advisor Choi, “to discover our kingdom’s weak spots. And by the state of your fiancé, I’d say they found one.” 

It was only his father’s steadying hand on his shoulder that stopped Juyeon from drawing his sword and cutting down the abominable man where he stood. Anger burned in his veins, but the sight of Hyunjin swaying ever so slightly on his knees made him pause. 

“What do you plan to do with them?” Juyeon asked, trying to keep the contempt out of his voice. His father’s hand tightened. 

“The king and his consort will be kept in the cells until we figure that out,” King Junhee said, weariness thick in his voice. “The rest are to be banished from our borders on pain of death.” 

Juyeon glanced over at the king, who had been watching the exchange with a sharp, calculating glint in his eyes. He caught Juyeon’s gaze, and, very deliberately, looked him and his travel clothes up and down. 

“Going somewhere?” Chan said, and behind him, Felix’s venomous glare flickered over to Juyeon. There was something deeply unsettling about his eyes, even while the rest of his face appeared sweet and harmless. 

“I am travelling south,” Juyeon said. “To ask the king of the dead to help me see him again.” 

Chan hummed thoughtfully. 

“And what will that accomplish,” he said. “Other than reminding you of what you lost?” 

One of the soldiers holding him captive struck him firmly across the face, his head snapping sideways. 

“Prisoners of the crown do not get to speak,” he snarled. Chan, to Juyeon’s surprise, laughed, even as he spat out a mouthful of blood. Behind him, Felix began to shake. 

“Do not touch him!” King Junhee barked, and the soldier had the gall to look offended. “He may be under investigation, but they are still _royalty_ and shall be treated as such. Do not forget your place.” 

“Don’t recall dragging royalty from their beds back in my palace,” Chan said dryly, and turned back to face Juyeon. “Tell me, prince, exactly how do you intend on crossing the toll bridge?” 

Juyeon shifted uneasily. “We have several obol coins in the treasury.” 

“Mmm,” Chan hummed again. “I’m sure I don’t want to know how you got those. And then?” 

Juyeon blinked. “And then what?” 

“What do you intend to say to the king’s crow?” 

“I- what?” Juyeon stared, completely at a loss. He had absolutely no idea what the king could be talking about. 

His confusion must have been plain on his face, because Chan laughed in faux disbelief. 

“ _Surely_ the man who intends to travel south and cross the river and beseech the grey king to bring his lover’s soul back to this life knows about the king’s crow!” 

“He’s not my lover,” Juyeon mumbled, out of a lack of anything better to say. Chan snorted. 

“So I've been told,” he said, and Juyeon threw Hyunjin a furtive look of betrayal. 

“Any living soul who wishes an audience with Hongjoong first presents their case to the master of crows. If he decides you’re worth the king’s time, _then_ you are allowed into the court.” 

“So I’ll do that,” Juyeon said with a shrug, but Chan shook his head, a somewhat patronizing grin crossing his face. 

“You underestimate just how impatient the master is,” Chan said, and Juyeon huffed a sigh of frustration. 

“What do you suggest, then?” he snapped, his voice coming out terse and petulant, and he saw his father shake his head out of the corner of his eye. Chan didn’t seem too fazed by Juyeon’s fraying temper. 

“Take me with you,” he said, as though the solution should have been obvious. “I’ve dealt with that king and his crow before, he is more likely to let a familiar face through the doors than yours alone.” 

King Junhee’s advisors exploded into a wave of shouted protests and derisive comments, Advisor Lee pushing his way to the king’s side. 

“Your grace,” he simpered. “This is yet another plan of this traitorous king’s to hurt your family - your son will never return if you allow this-” 

King Junhee held up a quieting hand, eying Chan with a critical frown. 

“From all that I have heard about the southern kingdom,” he said slowly. “My son isn’t likely to return either way. If Chan thinks his presence would be of some benefit-”

“Your grace-!” 

“I’ll stay.” 

For a moment, Juyeon wasn’t too sure who had spoken, their voice shockingly deep and ringing clear in the narrow hallway. The only hint as to its owner was the expression on Chan’s face as he tried to twist around in his guards’ hold. 

“Felix-” he said, and for the first time since he arrived at this mess, Juyeon heard a hint of fear in the king’s voice. 

“It makes sense,” he said, cutting his husband’s objections off. “The only way we can prove our innocence is for the prince to speak to his lover-” 

“He’s _not my_ -” 

“And the only way that’s going to happen is if you go with them.” Felix ignored Juyeon’s protest. “My presence here will serve as an incentive for you to return, _with_ the prince by your side.” 

Chan wrenched himself free from his captors and pressed closed to Felix, taking his husband’s face gently in his hands. The men guarding Felix fell away at King Junhee’s nod, and Juyeon turned to give the two men some privacy. The image of them in the gardens flashed hot and sudden in his mind, followed by the cold memory of what had followed later that night. There was no way conspirators of a such a barbaric murder would risk exposing themselves like that in the grounds of a foreign palace. His father’s court advisors were wrong this time. 

A soft sound reached Juyeon’s ears, and he valiantly tried to hold the heat rising in his face at bay as Chan kissed Felix, uncaring of their audience. 

“He will stay,” Chan said, stepping forward and coming shoulder to shoulder with Juyeon. “And I will do my best to bring you back home in one piece.” 

Chan may have been a head shorter than him, but the way he met Juyeon’s father’s eyes offered no doubt of his royal status. King Junhee looked at Juyeon, who nodded. 

“I assume you have a companion joining us?” Chan said, tilting his head questioningly at Juyeon. 

“A lieutenant of the capital guard,” Juyeon confirmed. “We grew up together, there’s no-one in this palace I trust more outside of my family.” 

“Then please allow me the same courtesy,” Chan said. “Forgive me if I don’t trust the fiancé of the man I have been accused of murdering.” 

Advisor Lee scoffed and threw his hands up in the air in defeat. 

“Pick whichever cretin from your party you like, _majesty_ ,” he sneered. “The rest will be escorted to the border at sunset.” 

“Safely,” added King Junhee sternly, and Advisor Lee gave a half-hearted bow. 

“Prepare for the journey, your majesty,” Juyeon said. “We will be ready at the palace stables after dinner.” 

Chan stopped him as he turned to go, a firm hand gripping his arm. 

“You have nothing to fear, your grace,” he said quietly. “Not from me, anyway.” 

  
  


Sunset brought a small crowd to the royal stables, Juyeon’s family and court friends clamoring to say goodbye, Chan’s men all talking hurriedly amongst themselves as they helped their king prepare his horse, a line of stony-faced palace soldiers at their backs. The warm evening was sweet with the scent of new blossoms, spring settling firmly in the air, and Juyeon had to fight the urge to shrug off his heavy court jacket in front of his father’s men. 

The master of the fire fields, having shown up with his men several hours after Hyunjae’s body had been discovered, was nowhere to be seen. The keeper and the watcher both looked distinctly uneasy at his absence, Jeongin fiddling with his gloves, Seungmin chattering under his breath to a distracted Changbin. 

( _"He’s cursed, you know.”_

_Juyeon eyed the eastern delegation cautiously, shuffling closer to Chanhee._

“ _What do you mean?”_

_“The keeper of the fields,” Chanhee said, nodding at Jeongin. “It’s why he’s covered from the throat down. His flesh is cursed to burn anything that touches it.”_

_“What kind of demon could do that?” Younghoon asked, sidling over to them. He placed a hand in the small of Chanhee’s back, and Chanhee leant back into it unthinkingly._

_“Not a demon,” Chanhee said with a shake of his head. “The eternal fire. Apparently it was meant to be a gift.”_

_The three of them looked over at Jeongin, his light blond hair and sharp eyes seeming to glow in the fading sunlight._

_“Wonder how much of a gift_ he _thinks it is,” Yunghoon muttered.)_

Juyeon hauled himself up onto his horse, stroking the stallion’s side soothingly as he settled beneath Juyeon’s weight. Next to him, Younghoon pressed a chaste kiss to the back of Chanhee’s hand and let him join the others, swinging himself up into his own saddle with a small grunt of effort. 

"Your men are late," he said pointedly. 

"They'll be here," Chan called, and pressed one last kiss to Felix's forehead. He turned to help Changbin mount his horse, and checked the reigns of Jeongin's restless mare. The young keeper of the fire fields looked uneasy, catching his king as he started to walk away and leaning down to whisper something urgent. Chan shook his head and squeezed Jeongin's gloved hand, smiling reassuringly. 

"We can't linger much longer - what are we waiting for?" Younghoon hissed, fiddling impatiently with the reins of his horse. 

"Our zealot's blessing," Hyunjin hissed back. "If I'm going to be stuck in the kingdom of the dead with your grumpy ass, I'm going with Ares at my side." 

Younghoon opened his mouth to answer, a pithy comment no doubt on the tip of his tongue, when the stable doors opened and the missing two members of Chan's party walked in.

"Apologies, majesty," Minho said with a hurried, half-complete bow, his hair a rumpled mess. Jisung looked entirely unrepentant, strolling over to Hyunjin and raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

Hyunjin dismounted, plucking a small dagger from his saddlebag and handing it to him. Jisung tucked it into his belt with a smile. 

"Can we please get this over with," Hyunjin grumbled. Jisung rolled his eyes and drew out a small invocation card from his coat pocket, similar to those Juyeon had seen Felix messing with countless times over the past few days. Jisung pressed it between his hands and closed his eyes with a quickly murmured prayer. 

"Didn't know you wanted me that badly, Jinnie," he shot back, prayer finished. When he opened his eyes again, Juyeon saw the flames of Ares reflected in his irises. 

Hyunjin swore colorfully at him, which Jisung ignored in favor of reaching for the dagger and opening his mouth. 

Juyeon realized what he was about to do seconds before he did it. With no hesitation, Jisung brought the blade to his mouth, blood spilling everywhere as he sliced into his tongue. He closed his mouth quickly, trapping the blood as he handed the dagger back to Hyunjin, then gestured impatiently. 

Younghoon gasped as Hyunjin yanked Jisung into his arms, pressing their lips together in a gruesome kiss as Jisung forced his mouthful of blood down Hyunjin's throat. 

They separated violently, shoving each other away as Jisung coughed and spat out the remainder. Juyeon and Younghoon shared a glance of nauseated confusion, which Chan caught.

"It can't surprise you that servants of Ares show their devotion with gifts of blood," he said lightly. Juyeon looked over at the king, feeling somewhat light headed.

"Do you need you-?" He waved vaguely in Jisung's direction, and Chan shook his head, his gaze drifting over to where their farewell party stood.

"I received my blessings from a different source earlier today," he said with a small smirk, and Juyeon very deliberately did not look over to where he was sure Felix was smirking back. 

“Are we ready?” Younghoon said, his impatience getting the better of him. Hyunjin rolled his eyes, which Younghoon noticed immediately. 

“Forgive me for wanting to go before winter comes,” he snapped. 

“Does your bit of fun know how eager you are to leave him?” Hyunjin sneered back, nodding at where Chanhee stood with the rest of Juyeon’s court. Younghoon flushed pink with anger. 

“Gentlemen,” Chan interrupted with a sigh. “Can we please save the childish banter for the road.” 

“ _Childish-!”_

“Your grace?” Chan said to Juyeon, ignoring Younghoon and Hyunjin’s offended spluttering. "Are you ready to go?"

Juyeon wound the reins around his wrists and squeezed the leather tightly, hiding the way his hands shook. 

"As I'll ever be," he said, and hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.   
  


The journey to the southern border took four days.

In that time, Hyunjin and Younghoon had argued about the following: the weather, their food supply, Hyunjin's hair, Younghoon's hair, _Juyeon's_ hair, the state of the road, Hyunjin's trousers, Younghoon's military colors, and whether or not a certain cloud was shaped like an alligator (it wasn’t). 

Late afternoon on the fourth day, they crossed the toll bridge, Juyeon slipping four obol coins across the counter of the empty toll box. When the bridge didn't immediately burst into flames the moment they approached, they took it as a sign their payment had been accepted, and cautiously crossed. 

The other side of the river was significantly colder, an ominous fog lingering around the river banks, the water murky and slow. Juyeon wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but the trees seemed old, sickly, their limbs bare of leaves. A singular crow watched them from a particularly dead-looking ash tree, and cawed softly as they passed.

“Creepy,” muttered Hyunjin, and Juyeon silently agreed. 

On the fifth day, Juyeon met his first necromancer. 

  
  
  


They heard the bells long before they saw them. 

The sun was beginning to set, a green glow to the evening sky that had been the source of intense panic the night before ‘til Chan had sat them down like scared toddlers and explained it. 

( _“Night brings the realm of the dead closer to the land of the living - that is merely the physical manifestation you are seeing.”_

_“So we’re not about to be eaten by the sky?”_

_“No, Hyunjin.”)_

Juyeon yawned widely, stretching his arms up as his horse slowed to a gentle trot, and called out to his companions. 

“We should stop for the night,” he said. “If your majesty’s estimations are true, the capital is only a handful of hours away. I, for one, would rather meet this master of crows with all my faculties intact. A night's rest would be more than welcome."

“Not a bad idea,” Younghoon agreed. “I saw a clearing off the road a few minutes back, we can set up there. We'll be sheltered from the wind, and will hear anyone approaching before they see us."

They set up camp quickly, Hyunjin and Chan and their mysterious ability to start a fire with practically nothing coming in handy once more. Younghoon got to work cooking their remaining fresh rations into a soup, slapping Juyeon’s wandering hand away every time he tried to steal a carrot to snack on. 

“Is it ready yet?” Hyunjin whined after some time had passed, the night drawing ever closer.

“It needs a few more minutes,” Younghoon said, adding a pinch of something from a small bag of spices. Juyeon saw Hyunjin open his mouth to complain further when a light, airy peal of bells rang through the air. 

Hyunjin’s jaw snapped shut, his eyes finding his king’s on the other side of the fire. 

“Is that-?” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully, and Chan nodded.

“I think so,” he said quietly, and a shiver of understanding shot up Juyeon’s spine. “I don’t recognize these bells, though.” 

“It’s a necromancer?” Younghoon whispered urgently, and dropped his cooking spoon in the pot when Chan hummed the affirmative. 

“Not one I’ve met before,” he said. “This should be interesting.” 

The bells rang out once more. 

“Are we in danger?” Juyeon asked, and groped around blindly ‘til his hands fell upon his sheathed sword, lying on the ground behind him. 

“Necromancers are not willfully violent,” Chan said, eyes fixed on the road nearby. “As long as we’re polite, we should be left unharmed.” 

The sound of shuffling footsteps drew near, an unusual tempo to their walk, and Juyeon held his breath as they all watched, and waited. 

A strange pair of men emerged from the shadows, one old and grey and struggling, the other much younger, his arm supportive around his companion’s waist. They walked slowly, pressed together like lovers, and didn’t seem surprised when the light of the campfire fell upon them. 

“Evening,” chirped the younger, his voice unexpectedly high and sweet. The older man offered them a smile and a weak wave, and unseen bells chimed as he moved. 

Chan leapt to his feet, a fist crossed over his chest as he bowed respectfully. The rest followed suit. 

“Oh, this is nice,” the young man said, blinking at them. “Been a while, hasn’t it. When was the last time your fossilized ass was bowed to?” He nudged the old man teasingly, who turned his withered face to him and blew a raspberry. 

“I don’t _have_ to keep you around, you know,” he said hoarsely. The other man rolled his eyes. 

“Please,” he said, “you’ve threatened to boot me into the abyss how many times?” 

“I can still do it - you’re not _that_ pretty.” 

“How very dare you.” 

"Sirs?" Juyeon interrupted carefully, and they paused their bickering to look at him. The young man seemed delighted at being addressed as such.

"See?" he said, in a poor attempt at a stage-whisper. "I'm a _sir._ "

"What you are is a pain in my ass."

"Not recently-"

" _Wooyoung-_ "

Jueyon cleared his throat, interrupting them once more, and they both smiled apologetically.

"It's getting late and the road is cold," Juyeon said. "Before you continue your travels, would you care to share our dinner and our fire?"

The one named Wooyoung beamed.

"Thought you'd never ask!" he said, and tugged on the other's arm. "Come on, grandpa, time to eat."

"I am still fully capable of murdering you where you stand."

"Of course you are, love."

Dinner was a lively affair, Wooyoung teasing his partner as he helped him eat, and cracking jokes with Hyunjin and a surprisingly relaxed Younghoon. Chan spent the meal quiet and watchful, something in his tense posture keeping Juyeon on edge. 

The old man introduced himself as San, and bells had tinkled gently as he’d bowed. Even as the night grew dark, Juyeon couldn’t figure out where the sound of bells came from. None were visible on his clothes or his simple jewelry, and the single bag Wooyoung carried had remained silent when he’d set it on the ground. The only noticeable thing about San’s appearance was a small tattoo of a cardinal beneath his right ear that caught Juyeon’s eye as he passed him his food. 

Wooyoung shook his head when Juyeon made to hand him a bowl, exchanging a secretive smile with the man next to him, as though they shared a private joke. 

“I don’t eat much,” he said simply. “But this one could use the extra serving, if it doesn’t bother you.” 

With pleasant company and decent food, Juyeon found himself growing sleepy, his attention to the conversation around him drifting. He stared into the fire as he let his thoughts wander to far off places, the flames warm and soothing. He thought of his brothers, his friends, his reckless cousin and what chaos he could incite in Juyeon’s absence. 

He thought of Hyunjae, undisciplined, unashamed and beautifully, overwhelmingly free with his affection, something that Juyeon had never seemed to know how to reciprocate. Even now, Juyeon couldn’t untangle the cluster of emotions in his chest that drove him on this mad journey, guilt, resentment, and a burning desire to see vengeance dealt out intertwined with a small, inscrutable need to see Hyunjae’s face again. 

“Juyeon?”

He looked up, startled, as Younghoon nudged his side. 

“Apologies,” Juyeon said, realizing that there were several pairs of eyes upon him. “My thoughts were miles from here. Our journey is starting to catch up to me.” 

“Truer words never spoken,” Younghoon groaned, stretching and cracking every joint in his shoulders. “I miss the feel of clean clothes.” 

“I miss the baths.” Hyunjin wrinkled his nose. “There are things tangled in my hair that not even Ares himself would try to tackle.” 

“The kitchens,” Juyeon said with a smile. “I miss Minyoung’s baking.” 

“I miss my bed,” Chan said softly, and Hyunjin snorted. 

“Your _bed_ , majesty, or the person in it?” 

Chan ducked his head almost shyly at that, and not for the first time, Juyeon was struck by how _human_ the so-called king of fire constantly proved himself to be. 

"There is nothing more welcoming than the warmth of a lover between your sheets at the end of a day," Chan said, fingers twisting his wedding band.

"We’ll have to take your word for it, majesty," Juyeon said, staring at his empty dinner bowl as though he could crawl inside it and avoid this conversation. Chan raised an eyebrow, a half-smile forming. 

“So you and he _truly_ never-?” 

"I wouldn’t lie about something like that," Juyeon huffed out, cheeks burning. 

"But he was so-" Hyunjin cut himself off, bowing his head apologetically at Juyeon. 

"It's okay, Hyunjin," Juyeon said, voice growing quiet. "I know what he was like." 

“I cannot believe you would speak like this of a dead man,” Younghoon grumbled under his breath. 

Chan chuckled as he got to feet, brushing off dirt from his backside. 

“Your kingdom’s views are so old-fashioned,” he said teasingly. “If you’d allowed yourselves to be a little freer with your love-" 

“This from a man who enslaved a boy into marriage?” 

Chan stopped dead, his shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned around, mouth open in surprise. 

“Excuse me?” he said faintly. Juyeon reached for Younghoon in an attempt to shut him up, but Younghoon leaned away, face twisted with self-righteous indignation.

“We are many things, your majesty, but blind is not one of them,” Younghoon bit out. “Everyone noticed the binding chains about your husband’s wrists. And seeing as he’s not a wild animal, the only reason for them to be there is _slavery_.” 

The air around them seemed to shiver as silence fell over their campsite. Chan looked stunned, as though the accusation had robbed him of his ability to speak. On Juyeon’s other side, Hyunjin heaved a loud, long sigh. 

“I don’t know what kind of madness you practice in your homeland,” he said, “but slavery has been outlawed in the eastern kingdom for centuries.” 

He looked up, the fire reflecting in his eyes, and Juyeon watched as he very deliberately rested a hand over one of the swords lying by his side. 

“Accuse my king of something like that again, and you will find yourself without a tongue.” 

San and Wooyoung watched the exchange wide-eyed and silent, and Juyeon muttered a low apology as Younghoon got to his feet and stormed off.

"Things aren't always this tense," he said. "I'm sorry your evening has been marred by our bad company." 

San chuckled, a chesty, strained sound, and Wooyoung shuffled over to press close to his side and offered him his cup. The old man took a long drink of his water, and lifted an arm to allow Wooyoung to duck beneath it happily.

"You have shared your food with us, your grace," San rasped. "A little tension is expected when companions clearly do not really know each other. You've ruined nothing." 

With dinner decidedly over, Wooyoung helped San to his feet, the other man groaning as he stretched out his back.

"I'm getting too old for picnics," he grumbled, and Wooyoung laughed, loud and bright in the blanketing darkness of night. 

"Come, old man," he said, curling an arm around San's waist. "It's time we got you home."

They bowed to Chan, who still stood halfway out the clearing, a curious expression on his face, and bade them all a good evening. Juyeon watched the odd couple go, one of Wooyoung's hands carrying San's bag, the other resting over his hip, a small flicker of warmth in his chest. Their relationship may have been unconventional, but there was no doubt in his mind that the two men loved each other. He kept a watchful eye on them as they slowly vanished into the darkness, the gleam of Wooyoung’s silver hair in the firelight finally fading. There was a sudden rustling of leaves as Chan finally left, disappearing into the surrounding press of trees. 

“Your grace.” 

“Mmm?” he said, turning to Hyunjin expectedly. He was not, however, looking at Juyeon, his eyes still fixed on the road San and Wooyoung had taken. 

“San called you that,” Hyunjin said after a moment. “Why would he know to call you that?” 

A faint sense of foreboding sent goosebumps rippling across Juyeon’s skin. 

“It’s obvious that Chan is a king,” Hyunjin murmured. “Any idiot could tell just by the way he holds himself, even if he didn’t run around with the crown’s seal on his coat like an invitation to every single assassin with a debt to pay.” 

“But you,” Hyunjin turned to face him. “You wear no royal seal, nor coat of arms. Your sword could belong to literally any trained soldier from your kingdom, and your lieutenant calls you by name. That man should have no earthly idea of who you are.”

They stared at each other in growing unease, the fire crackling uncaringly nearby, as somewhere in the distance, a lone crow cawed. 


	3. katabasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the love this has been shown so far <3 each and every comment has sparked joy, even if i am too horrendously awkward to reply to them individually. 
> 
> i'll be spending christmas weekend getting drunk and crying my way through a re-watch of The Untamed.
> 
> happy holidays!

The southern kingdom’s capital city was huge, dark, and overwhelmingly cold.

It was also empty. 

Streets lined with stone were barren of life, the doors and windows of every building boarded up as though their inhabitants feared what lurked outside. Occasionally, Juyeon caught a flash of eyes from the cracks, watching them suspiciously as they went. The hooves of their horses sounded obnoxiously loud on the cobblestone, each step echoing down the vacant streets. Every building seemed to be made from the same unfamiliar black stone, shot through with threads of silver and opal, that gave the entire city an air of fading opulence. Wrought iron street lamps curved and twisted up into the air, and bushes of dead thorns and browning roses spilled out on every street corner. Juyeon had been expecting - well, he wasn’t too sure _what_ he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

One thing that stood out were the crows. 

They’d begun to multiply as they’d approached the city limits, more and more crowding the ash trees lining the road, ‘til a thousand glittering eyes had watched as they’d entered the city. Even here, in the absence of trees, the crows perched on roof tops and lights and gutters, eying them silently as they made their way through the streets. 

“Don’t worry too much about them,” Chan had said quietly, when they had first begun to gather. “Their master wants us to know that he’s aware we’re coming.” 

“Is that a _good_ thing?” Younghoon has hissed, but his concerns had gone unaddressed. The tension between him and Hyunjin had not eased, and Juyeon had watched his temper grow shorter as the morning passed. 

They ambled through the city for what felt like an age, following Chan through the twists and turns of increasingly narrower streets, the buildings on either side growing closer and closer together. They were eventually forced to leave their horses behind, reigns knotted about a pair of hitching posts outside a silent inn. 

The eyes in the windows grew fewer as they went, until the sensation of being watched remained only from the handful of crows that appeared to be following them. Juyeon fought the growing feeling of claustrophobia, keeping his eyes on the king in front of them. His anxiety grew as the watery sunlight of late morning grew fainter the further they went into the bowels of the city, streetlights flickering to life to provide some kind of comfort, until finally, and somewhat abruptly, Chan stopped. 

“Here,” he said, and Juyeon peered at their surroundings expectantly. 

They had stopped in front of what looked like a small, abandoned horologist workshop, the door barred with thick, black chains. The large windows were caked in yellow dust, the shop beyond them dark and crammed full of broken clocks and piles of unused parts. Emblazoned above the door was a metalwork of a crow in flight, its wings spread gracefully across the stone. 

“Now what?” Younghoon said, the impatience thick in his voice, and Hyunjin shot a scathing look in his direction which was pointedly ignored. 

“He knows we’re here,” Chan said. “So now we wait.”   
  


The day stretched on, Juyeon and Younghoon settling on an uncomfortable iron bench on the side of the road to wait. Chan seemed content to do nothing, leaning up against one of the windows and fiddling with a small charm on his necklace. Hyunjin, out of all of them, seemed the most antsy, pacing up and down the narrow street, muttering under his breath as the hours passed by. 

Late into the afternoon, he finally broke. 

“Your majesty,” he burst out, interrupting the sleepy silence that had fallen over them all, “how much longer are we going to wait?” 

Chan tucked the necklace back beneath his shirt and straightened up, holding up his hands placatingly. 

“Hyunjin” he said, “please trust me on this.” 

“I _do_ ,” Hyunjin protested, “it’s this master of crows I don’t trust-” 

“Why ever not?” 

Juyeon and Younghoon scrambled to their feet, Younghoon, drawing his sword and stepping in front of him defensively. Juyeon saw Hyunjin do the same, trying to cover Chan from whoever it was that had spoken. They all looked frantically around for the owner of the voice, but Chan laughed suddenly and pointed up at the metal crow above the door. 

Juyeon felt his draw drop as he saw it. 

The crow’s head had twisted around to face them, glittering green eyes blinking down from its soldered perch. 

“Your majesty,” Younghoon said faintly. “Please tell me the shop sign didn’t just speak to us.” 

“Of course it didn’t,” came the voice again. “Do shop signs speak to you often, Kim Younghoon?” 

They all turned to see a man standing in the middle of the street, watching them carefully. Juyeon, entranced, lowered Younghoon’s sword down with a trembling hand. 

The master of crows was quite possibly the most exquisite man Juyeon had ever seen, tall and slim and draped in crushed black velvet and deep emerald feathers. His hair, a shining, moon-kissed silver, fell soft over his eyes, his ears pierced with gems and small hoops and glittering chains, his eyes lined with black kohl and silver shimmer. Marring the only skin visible were curled black markings, crawling up the side of his neck and sprawling across his collarbones. At his waist, a set of five brass hand bells hung from a black leather belt, their handles a bright, pearlescent glass. 

“Seonghwa,” Chan said, delighted, and stepped forward to bow in the same manner he had bowed to San. Hyunjin followed dumbly, and it took Juyeon several awestruck heartbeats before he hauled Younghoon down into a bow as well. When they straightened, a pleased smile had crossed Seonghwa’s face, leaving Juyeon momentarily breathless. 

“It’s been a while, your majesty,” Seonghwa said pleasantly. 

“A little over two years,” Chan agreed. “I will admit, I have not missed this place.” 

Seonghwa laughed, and the beautiful sound sent warmth blooming in Juyeon’s chest. He stared, completely enamored with the man before them, amazed at how such a creature could exist. Seonghwa’s eyes flickered over to meet his, something deep and tempting in their darkness, and Juyeon found himself struggling to string his thoughts together.

“Hello, your grace,” Seonghwa said, voice smooth and captivating. “What brings you to the kingdom of the dead?” 

Juyeon stared, his mind blank. Why were they there? They had come for a reason, he knew they had, but it seemed so distant now, so inconsequential in the face of such ethereal beauty. Something about Seonghwa called to him, setting every cell in his body abuzz, erasing any worry or care he may have had and replacing it with the singular need to look upon Seonghwa for an eternity. 

“Your grace?” Seonghwa repeated, and Juyeon was horrified to hear an edge of disappointed impatience in his voice. He was letting this godly creature down, he was failing, he was- 

He was-

Wait. 

Juyeon blinked, his mind clearing of the strange haze that had infected it. Sensation came rushing back into his body, the overwhelming heaviness easing as he slowly shook his head. When he looked at Seonghwa again, that urgent desire to please him was gone, and Seonghwa looked unexpectedly satisfied. 

“There you are,” he said, and his voice now sounded completely and utterly _human_. Confusion and a smidgen of embarrassment welled up in Juyeon’s mind, but he’d address that later. 

“My fiancé,” he said, and a familiar spike of hurt lanced through him. “He was murdered in his bed a little over a week ago.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Seonghwa murmured. “But I cannot bring him back.” 

“Please-” Juyeon said, stepping forward. “I just need to talk to him, however briefly. We need to know who- or _what -_ killed him.” 

Seonghwa tilted his head curiously. 

“You think something other than a man did it?” he said, and Juyeon shrugged helplessly. 

“I- possibly? The way he died- I’ve never seen anything like it. No man could have- have torn him open like that. And the burns...” Juyeon shuddered at the memory.

Seonghwa hummed thoughtfully. “That’s a new one.” 

“They think I did it,” Chan said, and Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you?”

“Of course he didn’t!” Hyunjin snapped, sounded offended on his king’s behalf. Seonghwa levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Please,” Juyeon said, desperation coloring his voice. “I just- I need to see him. I need to know what happened. My father will have the king’s head unless we find out the truth.” 

“The _truth_.” Seonghwa snorted derisively. 

“I knew a man once,” he said, “whose obsession with finding _the truth_ ended up claiming his life. Are you prepared for that possibility, your grace?” 

Younghoon gripped Juyeon’s arm, but Juyeon ignored him. 

“I am,” he said. “I owe my fiancé that much.” 

A crow, smaller than most of those they had seen up ‘til now, fluttered over and perched on Seonghwa’s shoulder. He raised a hand and ran and a gentle finger over the top of its head. 

“My skills do not lie in raising the dead,” he said. “I’m afraid I cannot help you.” 

Disappointment flooded Juyeon’s body, cold and heavy, but Seonghwa continued. 

“Your best hope likes to watch the sunsets from the temple ruins in the western quarter of the city,” he said, producing a silver pocket watch from his breast pocket and checking the time. 

“If you can convince him to do it, I’ll convince Hongjoong to give him permission. No soul is dragged back from the afterlife without our king knowing about it.” 

Juyeon remembered his manners as Seonghwa turned to go, bowing deeply. 

“Thank you, master. Your assistance is much appreciated-” 

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Seonghwa interrupted. “He’s a tricky bitch on a good day, you’re not going to have an easy time.” 

He spun sharply on his heel, feathers fluttering and glimmering emerald in the dull streetlights. With a rush of air and a sound like a thousand wings, a flock of crows erupted from the ground beneath his feet, obscuring him from view as they launched into the air. 

When they cleared, Seonghwa was gone. 

  
  


The ruined temple seemed completely at odds with the rest of the city, built from ancient white stone that now stood caked in years of dirt and overgrowth. It sat upon a steep hill near the edge of the city, dark cobblestone giving way to dry yellow grass, the chirp of crickets and the bubble of water filling the air. 

Juyeon trekked briskly up the well-worn path, the sun already beginning its decline, a hand resting on his hip where his sword once sat. 

( _“I don’t like this,” Younghood said, accepting Juyeon’s sword with a scowl. “Why must you go unarmed?”_

_“If he wants to convince a necromancer to help him, he needs to appear vulnerable and desperate,” Chan said._

_“I_ am _vulnerable and desperate,” Juyeon muttered. “I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him.”_

_Chan clapped him encouragingly on the back._

_“That’s the spirit.”_ ) 

Juyeon reached a set of pale, crumbling steps, feeling a little breathless, and glanced back over his shoulder. The city’s edge seemed miles away, even though he had only been walking for a maximum of twenty minutes. From this far up the hill, he could see the wide dark stretch of the capital, sprawling into the distance, the grey king’s palace looming in the north. It was built from the same strange black stone, the gardens around it visibly dead, even from so far away. Juyeon shivered and turned back to the task at hand. 

He managed to trip over the last step up, stumbling awkwardly into the temple, and quickly righted himself, looking around for this necromancer. The sky above him was tinged green, warning of the oncoming night. He didn’t have much time. 

Juyeon slowly strolled along the boundary of the temple, weaving between massive columns and trailing a light hand over ancient engravings. Hades was present in every image, the benevolent god of death watching over the stories and symbols embedded in the stone. The ground was covered in ash, Juyeon leaving behind conspicuous footprints as he walked, and a scent that Juyeon couldn’t quite place hung in the air, like that which followed a thunderstorm. 

He walked the full circumference of the temple, peering out into the surroundings, and carefully inspecting every inch of the interior, but could find no trace of another person. The sky above him darkened, and his confidence in Seonghwa wavered. 

Finally, doubt growing too heavy to carry, Juyeon collapsed onto one of the low platforms, shoulders hunched over in despair and frustration. There was no way to convince a necromancer to help him if he couldn’t even _find_ the man. 

“I’m so sorry, Hyunjae” he sighed into his hands, failure weighing heavily in his chest. 

“You sound rather despondent, your grace.” 

Juyeon jerked in surprise, hand groping for a sword no longer there. 

The man standing in front of him may have once been beautiful, but living among the dead had robbed him of that spark needed for beauty to shine. His cheeks were gaunt and pale, deep shadows beneath his eyes, his lips dry and cracked. The hand which wore strips of tiny glass bells was verging on skeletally thin, nail beds blue from poor circulation, and a good chunk of hair was a bright, stark white, the rest an inky black. The dark marks of a necromancer stood out against his sallow skin, swirling up his bare arms and creeping across his sharp collarbones. His ribs, exposed by the thin straps of leather he wore in a pretense of modesty, looked as though one particularly enthusiastic embrace would crush them to dust. The only remaining evidence of his past beauty were his eyes, dark and clever as they observed Juyeon in his pitiful state. 

"Missing someone?"

Juyeon scrambled around for the right words, brain going blank.

"Yes, yes, my- Hyunjae-"

"Your Hyunjae?" 

Juyeon blushed but nodded firmly.

"My Hyunjae," he repeated, and was struck by how easily the words left his mouth.

“And what would you give,” the man said, “to see your Hyunjae's face once more?” 

The tiniest flower of hope blossomed in the pit of Juyeon’s stomach. 

“Anything,” he choked out, and the man hummed. “Everything. Anything you ask.” 

Somewhere in the distance, a crow called out warningly. 

“That’s a dangerous thing to offer a stranger, my prince,” he said, and crouched down in front of Juyeon. A surprisingly strong hand gripped Juyeon by the arm and hauled him to his feet, and a familiar tattoo beneath his right ear caught Juyeon’s attention. 

“It's you,’ Juyeon blurted out, staring at the small, inked bird. San hummed again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“It is,” he agreed amicably.

"How- you look so different?"

San smiled properly, revealing unexpectedly sharp, white teeth.

"The dead hide me from view when I'm far out beyond the city borders," he said, and something pinged in the recesses of Juyeon's memory.

"So, Wooyoung-?"

"Has been dead for over six years," San confirmed, sounding remarkably cheerful. 

“Now that you know the man you're dealing with - does that change your offer?” 

Juyeon shook his head emphatically. “That just makes me believe it’s worth it.” 

San laughed, a high, lovely sound that seemed to fill the cold air around them, and bells on his hand chimed merrily along.

“I’ve always said that Seonghwa has too much faith in me,” he said fondly, and straightened the lapels of Juyeon’s coat. The jewel beneath his eye, a tear-drop shaped emerald, caught the fading sunlight as he turned and began walking towards the crumbling stairs. 

“That’s how you knew,” Juyeon said, putting two and two together. San cocked his head questioningly. 

“When we met on the road - you knew who I was - _what_ I was - without us ever mentioning it.” 

“Ah,” San wrinkled his nose, looking a little abashed. “Forgive me if I alarmed you, your grace. One of Seonghwa’s little birdies had told me you were on your way.”

“You had Hyunjin half-convinced we were walking into an ambush,” Juyeon said dryly, and San ducked his head, poorly concealing a guilty grin. 

“Come,” San said. “Let’s get you indoors and warmed up before I have to haul _you_ back from the underworld as well as your lover.” 

“He’s not my lover,” Juyeon corrected automatically, and San paused. . 

“You were due to be wed, were you not?” San said, glancing back at him with one eyebrow raised. Juyeon nodded, feeling a little ridiculous.

“You know we- we just hadn’t- it’s a _tradition_ \- and we only met four months ago-!” 

San’s other eyebrow joined its brother. 

“You would really risk so much for a man you haven’t known?” He stepped closer to Juyeon, something liquid and feline in the way his hips moved, and an alarm went off in the back of Juyeon’s mind. 

“I know him well enough,” he protested, taking a step back to put some space between their bodies. San followed him anyway. 

“But you haven’t _known_ him” San emphasized, a low purr to his voice. “You haven’t seen him bare in your sheets, felt him tense and tremble beneath you.” 

Juyeon’s back hit the cold stone wall, San bearing down upon him and keeping him trapped. Something thick and heavy lodged itself in Juyeon’s throat, halting his tongue. San's words called up memories of scandalous fantasies that Juyeon had once entertained, late at night many months ago, the first day he and Hyunjae had met. All he'd known of Hyunjae back then was his exquisite face, long limbs, and the sound of his laughter as he’d sat with his brother at dinner, and that had been enough to set Juyeon’s body alight. He'd taken himself in hand, that night, and finished with the image of Hyunjae's mischievous little smile seared into his brain.

San’s dark eyes flickered back and forth across Juyeon’s face, seeming to search for something in his expression, but all Juyeon could focus on was the burning under his own skin, the blood pounding in his ears.

“You haven’t heard him cry your name in pleasure as your fingers touch his skin or move inside him,” San breathed, and a prick of sharp fingernails sent ice flooding through Juyeon’s veins. 

“You haven’t _felt_ his body tighten around you as he tumbles over the edge, speared through like a trapped butterfly, completely at the mercy of your-” 

“That’s enough!” Juyeon barked, and pushed San away from him. His body shook as he staggered away from the wall, knees weak and heart racing in his chest. His lungs felt as though iron bands were wrapped around them, constricting his breathing and leaving him lightheaded. 

The first hard-fought breath that escaped Juyeon’s control sounded like he was choking, and his legs collapsed underneath him as he sank to the ground. Panic spiked through him like a lance; fear of the man in front of him, overwhelming guilt at the way he'd reacted to the images San conjured, and an ever increasing worry about his sprinting heart rate. His body went hot and cold in alternating waves, the world tilting alarmingly in front of his eyes as his vision blurred. Juyeon had just about convinced himself that this was what dying felt like when the soft press of a palm between his shoulder blades stopped the rising panic in its tracks. Juyeon hauled in a deep, confused breath of cold air. When he looked up, the necromancer had a strangely approving look on his face.

“What,” Juyeon panted out. “What was that?” 

“Just needed to check something,” San said, and once again helped Juyeon to his feet. 

"Time to go," San said lightly, and set off for the stairs once more, leaving Juyeon with the disarming impression that he had just passed some kind of test. 

  
  
  


Younghoon pressed close behind Juyeon as they walked, several steps behind San, tension vibrating through his body. Hyunjin seemed similarly distrusting, walking as close to his king as Chan would allow. 

San led them quickly through the streets of the city, flitting between shadows like a ghost. The street lamps were lit, and the capital’s residents had emerged from their boarded up homes, night markets popping up in every main road. The ever-present crows sat clustered together, the sound of rustling wings haunting their steps. 

As they approached the palace, the forest of buildings seemed to thin out, growing smaller and emptier until the cobblestones melted into gravel, and palace gates materialized out of the darkness. 

Huge and cast in the same wrought iron that seemed to make up the very bones of the city, the bars of the gates were formed into intricate scrollwork, sprawling high above them and creeping into the ground. There appeared to be no physical way of opening them, the lock soldered shut, and there were no guards to be seen. San seemed to be entirely unfazed, marching up to the gates and giving one a swift, sharp kick. 

“Let us in, you stubborn fucks,” he barked, and the gates _whined_. “Stop that, you and I both know last week was an accident.” 

He turned his head and beamed at them over his shoulder, throwing a reassuring thumbs up. Behind Juyeon, Younghoon smothered a disbelieving huff of laughter. 

“The man is insane,” he muttered, and Juyeon couldn’t help but share the sentiment. 

San lifted his foot threateningly. “I’ll kick you again, don’t think I won’t.” 

With a grating shriek of metal on metal, the gates creaked open, the lock appearing to melt away before Juyeon’s eyes. San waited until they had opened completely, before patting one of the gates like a well-behaved pet. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, and beckoned them to follow him. When only Chan took a step, San huffed and crossed his arms. 

“What?” he said impatiently, and Chan snickered.

“I think they’re scared of you,” he said, a wide smirk on his face. 

“You yelled at an inanimate object, and it actually listened,” Hyunjin said, voice small. San rolled his eyes. His bells tinkled airily, as though they were laughing at him. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I yelled at the guardians ‘til they unlocked it, that’s all.” 

He turned and set off down the gravel path, and Chan grinned at them. 

“You'd better get used to things like this,” he said easily. “The dead are everywhere, _in_ everything.” 

“Great,” Hyunjin squeaked. “That’s just- so- great.” 

“Scared of ghosts?” Younghoon said with a smirk, and Hyunjin let out a stream of creatively explicit insults. 

“Any day now, gentlemen!” San yelled from somewhere inside the palace grounds. They hurried through the gates, Juyeon feeling the crunch of gravel and dead leaves beneath his boots, and followed the sound of San’s voice down a dimly lit path. 

The palace gardens were intricately manicured, even if populated by trees and flowers that all looked as though they’d seen better days. The dry grass was cut short and neat, the hedges trimmed to precise corners, the benches and dark stone fountains scattered around all pristinely clean. Small, onyx figurines of different birds marked the pathways that branched off the main walkway, perched on pedestals with words written in an unfamiliar alphabet beneath them. Juyeon eyed a hummingbird as they walked past it, and he could have sworn it blinked at him just as his head turned away. 

Awaiting them at the top of the wide palace steps was Seonghwa, leaning against a pillar of black stone, a tiny crow nestled in his hair. It squawked sleepily as he straightened up, raising its head to see what the fuss was about before tucking itself back under a wing. 

"San," he greeted with a nod, and San smiled sweetly up at him.

"I got your present," he said, and gestured at Juyeon. "Think I'll have some fun with this one."

Juyeon and Younghoon exchanged alarmed glances. 

"So you've agreed, then?" Seonghwa asked, mild surprise coloring his words. "Even with Wooyoung-?"

"Yes," San cut him off sharply. "Wooyoung will understand." The warning was clear in his voice, but Seonghwa didn't seem too eager to let whatever it was go. 

"Will he? Even with everything you promised," Seonghwa protested, "you would _really_ do that to him, after all this time?" 

"He'll get over it," San snapped, any trace of good humor gone, and he stormed past Seonghwa and pounded on the palace doors. 

"Seonghwa-?" Chan began, but Seonghwa shook his head.

"Later," he said curtly. "After you've gotten what you came for." 

The massive doors swung open, eerily silent, and a tall, sweet-faced man dressed in almost as many feathers as Seonghwa, strode out to meet them. He was covered from the throat down, the only slivers of skin being two deliberate lines cut out of his jacket over his hips. A necklace of sharp, silver teeth sat at the base of his throat, and he wore twin leather vambraces on his arms, two rows of tiny silver bells stitched into either of them. 

Another necromancer.

"Nice of you to show up," he said cheerfully, a blindingly jovial smile on his face. Something in the fullness of his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes set Juyeon at ease almost instantly, and he found himself smiling back at the newcomer. 

"I had to make sure he was worth it," San said, and shoved his way past into the palace. The new man frowned at Seonghwa, exasperation clear on his face. 

"What did you say to him _this_ time?" he said, and Seonghwa closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple.

"Nothing I haven't said before, Yunho," he sighed. "Is the king in court?" 

"He is," Yunho said, and peered at their small party. His eyes fell upon Chan and immediately that friendly grin returned.

"Your majesty!" he exclaimed happily, tucking an arm behind his back as he bowed. The bells rang joyfully in greeting, as though echoing their master's merriment. 

"Hello, Yunho," Chan replied warmly. "It's good to see you again."

"How is Felix? And that little goblin from the temple? And-?"

"Yunho," Chan interrupted him with a laugh. "We can catch up later. For now, we really must see the king."

Yunho arranged his face into a solemn expression, though his eyes still sparkled. 

"Of course, majesty. Seonghwa?"

Seonghwa reached up and snapped open several buttons of his feathered coat, exposing a sigil tattooed left of his breastbone, his necromancer marks curled reverently around it. Something about it seemed familiar to Juyeon's mind, as though he had seen it before in a history book or etched onto a wall, but its significance remained frustratingly out of reach. 

"Come, your grace," Seonghwa said, eyes falling on Juyeon. A shadow of doubt crept into his mind, but it was far, far too late for that. 

"It's time you met the king of the dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love park seonghwa a normal amount


	4. rex morte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter almost didn't happen this week :v i wish i could blame work like a responsible adult, but it's actually because i spent the entire christmas weekend playing genshin impact oops
> 
> as always, your love is greatly appreciated. seeing comments about particular characters or story threads makes my heart happy <3

The inside of the palace was just as cold as the rest of the city, the dark stone foyer lined with gold lights and covered in a thick, emerald green carpet. A grand staircase greeted them, leading up to a huge pair of beautiful doors, inlaid with stained glass. 

At the bottom of the stairs stood a familiar figure, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other, and he yelled happily when San approached and threw himself into his arms. 

“I left you alone for like two hours, Woo,” San said with a laugh, and Wooyoung whined and let himself go limp, dramatically pretending to faint. 

“I felt myself start to drift,” he said, resting a hand over his eyes like a distressed maiden “The darkness called me back-” 

“It did  _ not _ .”

“It said,  _ Wooyoung, you’ve been gone too long, we miss you _ -”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said, a strange edge to his voice. Juyeon glanced between him and Wooyoung curiously, noting the way San’s grip on Wooyoung’s waist tightened. 

“ _ We miss your ass, it made the endless void worth it _ \- hello, Seonghwa.” 

“I wasn’t expecting you here,” Seonghwa said. "Not with Yeosang visiting." Wooyoung shrugged, straightening up and wiggling out of San’s hold 

"I heard whispers of Sannie agreeing to do something stupid," he said, and Juyeon saw the bird in Seonghwa's hair furtively try to shuffle out of view. Seonghwa scooped it up anyway, and it peeped in alarm.

"You and I will talk about that later," Seonghwa muttered, and the little crow launched itself off of Seonghwa's hand, fluttering high up into the depths of the palace. 

"There's murder afoot, Woo," San said, pressing himself to Wooyoung's back and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Don't you want to see justice served?  _ Lovers _ reunited?"

Juyeon scowled as San waggled his eyebrows teasingly at him. 

"What I  _ want _ is to see you live past thirty," Wooyoung snapped, and elbowed San sharply in the stomach. "You  _ said _ you weren't going to do this again!"

“But it’s okay if it’s you, right?” San snapped back, shoving Wooyoung away from him. He stumbled over the carpet, and Seonghwa made a small, abortive movement, as though he were going to catch him. “I’ve given you six years, Wooyoung, and never once have you complained about  _ how.” _

He spun on his heel, ignoring the hurt clear on Wooyoung’s face. 

“Come,” San said impatiently, “the king is waiting for us.” 

“We’ve missed something important, haven’t we?” Juyeon heard Hyunjin murmur. 

“I can explain later, if you want,” Yunho offered, sidling up behind him. Hyunjin jumped and blushed scarlet at having been overheard, stammering over an apology as Yunho grinned. 

Set in the glass on the doors at the top of the stairs was the same sigil as that inked into Seonghwa’s skin, and once again Juyeon caught himself staring, desperately digging through his memory for a hint as to its meaning. He wasn't given much time, a set of guards bowing and opening the doors, and they were ushered unceremoniously into the grey king’s court. 

The throne room was an opulently styled, cavernous hall, the vaulted ceiling disappearing into the shadows, a massive inlay of stained glass looming over the throne itself which sat at the top of a short, wide set of stairs. The sigil repeated itself in the patterned glass, but Juyeon’s frustration with himself was shoved to the side as he lay eyes upon the king of the dead. 

He sat sprawled over the throne, legs thrown about like a careless teenager, body draped in black furs and shimmering jewels. The sturdy leather vest he wore beneath his furs was corseted tight around his narrow waist, and his necromancer marks curled sensuously up the side of his throat. His dark grey hair was pushed back out of his eyes, revealing metal pierced through one eyebrow and a pair of dark, kohl-lined eyes. A second metal hoop pierced his bottom lip, and several glittering pieces of jewelry adorned his ears. One hand rested on a massive broadsword propped up against the throne, his thumb stroking the pommel as he watched them approach. 

They halted at the base of the stairs, and watched as San and Seonghwa made their way up to their king. Hongjoong held up an expectant hand without looking, and San took it in his and pressed his lips to one of the king’s rings. 

“Evening, my lord,” San said, his voice syrupy sweet. Hongjoong hummed wordlessly in reply, his eyes fixed on his crow. 

Seonghwa, hips loose and swaying, an amused glint in his eyes, raised an eyebrow at Hongjoong’s legs, hooked over one of the armrests. The king straightened up, legs swinging forward, and Seonghwa settled gracefully on the newly vacated armrest. Hongjoong slipped a hand between Seonghwa’s thighs, grasped one tightly and squeezed. 

“My lord,” Seonghwa murmured, voice low and purring. 

Chan stepped forward, an inscrutable expression on his face, and he and Hyunjin bowed, fists clenched tightly against their chests. 

“Hello, Chan,” Hongjoong said, tilting his head as Seonghwa threaded a hand through his hand. His eyes drifted shut, a low rumble of satisfaction in his chest, before he blinked at them lazily, reminding Juyeon of the fat palace cats that liked to snooze in the library. 

"My lord," Chan said, head still bowed. "This is Juyeon, crown prince of the middle kingdom."

Juyeon blinked at the sudden mention of his name and quickly followed his cue, bowing respectfully. He saw Younghoon do the same out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello, Juyeon," Hongjoong said. "I hear you have a request of my Sannie "

Juyeon cleared his throat, his voice a mere whisper when he answered.

"Yes, my lord," he rasped out. "He's agreed to help me see my fiancé again."

Hongjoong laughed, a high, chilling sound that filled every corner of the throne room.

" _ Has _ he now?"

Seonghwa leaned over to murmur into his ear, slipping a hand of his own down the collar of Hongjoong's shirt. The king didn't blink, eyes fixed on them even as Seonghwa finished talking and lightly nipped the delicate skin of his throat. 

"San," Hongjoong said, beckoning absently, and San fell to his knees before his king, his bells utterly silent.

"You understand what this will do to you, yes?" 

San rested his face against Hongjoong's leg and closed his eyes.

"I do, my lord."

"Has Wooyoung agreed to share his anchor?" 

Juyeon abruptly realized that the man in question was nowhere to be seen, and couldn't remember for the life of him if Wooyoung had followed them into the throne room.

"I don't know if  _ agree  _ is the word I'd use, my lord," San said, unhappiness heavy in his voice. "But it is my choice to make, and I've made it willingly."

Hongjoong's cold, dark gaze met Juyeon's, and he held his stare for a long, agonizing moment. It took all of Juyeon's willpower to not look away, something in his mind urging him to maintain eye contact.

"Do  _ you _ **_,_ ** my prince, understand what you have asked of him?" Hongjoong said, leaning forward. Seonghwa's hand slipped out of his shirt, and repositioned itself over the hand still gripping Seonghwa's thigh.

"I-" Juyeon's voice died completely, and Hongjoong's eyes narrowed.

"So," he said, voice dripping with derision, "you come into my court and ask my Justice to bring back your dead, and you never  _ once _ consider the cost?" 

"Hongjoong," San interrupted, "you have not read his soul as I have, you  _ can't  _ make this decision for me, not this time." 

Hongjoong sat back, looking furious, but rested his hand on the crown of San's head in blessing nevertheless.

"As long as I'm not the one stuck burying you, Sannie," he snapped, and Juyeon saw San hide a triumphant little smile.

"Thank you, my lord," San murmured, and shot a meaningful look at them over his shoulder. Juyeon's legs promptly lost their strength, and he fell to his knees before the throne.

" _ Thank you _ ," he managed, and Hongjoong snorted dismissively. 

"It's not happening tonight, don't thank me just yet," he bit out. "San needs to rest and prepare." 

He snapped his fingers and a small, pretty attendant stepped forward.

"Show them to the guestrooms," he said. "We will get this ridiculousness over with in the morning."

"Yes, my lord," she said with a bow. Hongjoong gave up all remaining pretense of propriety and dragged Seonghwa down into his lap.

"Get out," he barked, and Younghoon's hands hauled Juyeon to his feet. 

A long, drawn-out groan of pleasure reached their ears just as the throne room doors closed behind them, and Juyeon felt himself flush bright red. Yunho, accompanying them to the guestrooms, saw whatever his face was doing and laughed.

"You'd think they were newlyweds, what with Hongjoong's inability to keep his hands to himself," Yunho said, chuckling. 

"I-" Juyeon coughed to clear his throat. "I didn't realize they were- that Seonghwa-" 

"He's been the king's consort for almost six years," San said, sidling up behind them. "And they're still shameless about where they decide to tear each other's clothes off." 

"Does the king brand all his lovers, then?" Younghoon said, and gestured at his own chest. San rolled his eyes, and even Yunho stifled a laugh.

"That is the mark of a Justice," San said, "not the brand of a lover."

Younghoon stared at him stonily. "You say that as though you expect me to know what you're talking about."

"A Justice is a crown-sanctioned necromancer," came Wooyoung’s voice, and he popped out from behind Yunho, seemingly out of nowhere.

"There are five court Justices entrusted with keeping the laws of the dead. You'd be surprised how many people think they can pick up a bell and talk to grandma," San explained.

"We have the Justice of Contracts-"

Yunho saluted cheerfully.

"The Justice of Fate, the Justice of the Word, which is what Seonghwa is, the Justice of Banishment-"

"That was me," Wooyoung piped up.

"And the Justice of Summons," San finished, and gestured grandly at himself. "There are only ever five of us, and we  _ usually _ last a good fifty or so years." 

Wooyoung crossed his arms in a huff.

"Call me out by  _ name _ next time," he said snippily, and San sniggered. Whatever tension there had been between them earlier seemed to have mysteriously faded, Wooyoung ducking beneath San's outstretched arm as they followed the attendant to the guestrooms. 

They walked up several flights of stone stairs, past large, open rooms that appeared filled with dust and not much else. One particular room, its doors draped in old, scarlet curtains, set off a prolonged sneezing fit in Hyunjin, and resulted in them temporarily halting while Chan held his soldier and patted his back soothingly. 

“I’m allergic to the dead,” Hyunjin croaked out, and Chan snickered and offered him a small handkerchief on which to blow his nose. 

They turned a corner and came face to face with a man, soaked in blood from a gruesome head wound, his mouth open in a silent shriek of anguish. Juyeon jolted back, fear zipping down his spine, and he heard Younghoon squeak in alarm. The man stumbled forward, reaching out for them, and somewhere behind him, Juyeon heard Hyunjin swear. Something about the injured man appeared almost ephemeral, as though he were not properly tethered to this world. and Juyeon’s suspicions were confirmed when his flailing arm went straight through an entirely unbothered San. 

“A ghost,” Younghoon said, scuttling behind Juyeon in terror. Wooyoung stopped in his tracks and turned on them, looking deeply offended. 

“How dare you,” he said, hands on his hips. “ _ I’m _ a ghost - that sad bastard’s just a shadow.” 

“What’s the difference?” asked Juyeon curiously, eying the noiselessly screaming figure. His heart slowed its frantic pounding, now that the sudden shock of being confronted with the dead was easing. Behind him, Younghoon dug his fingers into Juyeon’s arm. 

“Can we get back to the part where Wooyoung’s a ghost real quick?” 

“A shadow is just an impression of a spirit at the moment of their death,” Wooyoung said, rolling his eyes. “They’re boring and depressing and do nothing for the atmosphere of this place, honestly.” 

“How are you a ghost?” Younghoon pressed, and was ignored once more. 

“A  _ ghost _ ,” Wooyoung said, gesturing grandly at himself, “is a spirit that’s been purposefully summoned back to this world. We need anchors to keep us here, otherwise we forget who we are and drift back to the afterlife. Sannie's mine, obviously, and will act as your fiancé's too, when the time comes.” 

"So, Hyunjae-?"

Wooyoung nodded, a small frown on his face. "San's bringing him back as a ghost, yeah. It takes the full sequence of the Keres bells to send us back to the afterlife, so unless those are rung, he'll be around for a while."

“You’ve been dead this whole time??” 

“Younghoon,” Juyeon said reproachfully. “You’re being rude.” 

“Did you know?” Younghoon said, and Juyeon shrugged. Younghoon gasped, outraged. 

“If this is your reaction to me, I can’t wait to see you face Hongjoong’s army,” Wooyoung said with a smirk, which was immediately wiped off his face when San snuck up behind him and slapped him cheerfully on the ass. He yelped and jerked away, covering his backside protectively as he pouted at the necromancer. 

“Stop terrorizing the living,” San chastised, and Wooyoung stuck his tongue out cheekily.

"How did you die?" Younghoon asked, and Juyeon fought the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. 

"Fighting pirates," Wooyoung said off-handedly, tucking his fingers beneath one of the thin straps around San’s waist. Now that Juyeon knew, he could see the slightest grey tinge to Wooyoung’s golden skin, something unnatural in his stillness, as though he had stopped breathing once upon a time and forgotten to start again. Younghoon scoffed.

"The south has no ports, what  _ pirat _ es?" 

"Big ones," Wooyoung said. "With crab claws instead of hands." 

"Don't forget the octopus beaks," San added, and made a loud clicking sound. Wooyoung snorted and smirked over at Younghoon, who crossed his arms sulkily. 

"Don't know why it's such a big secret," he said. "You seem perfectly okay with  _ being _ dead, why won't you share how you got that way?"

"Because," Wooyoung said, rolling his shoulders luxuriously. "Even the dead are allowed their privacy." 

"But-"

"Drop it, Younghoon," Juyeon said, and Younghoon scowled and mimed zipping his mouth shut. Juyeon didn't miss the small, grateful smile Wooyoung shot his way.

“We will meet in the cathedral,” San said as they came upon the guestrooms. “Someone will wait to guide you there in the morning, just after sunrise.”

The attendant opened the doors to the guest suite, which, in contrast to the majority of their surroundings, was lit warmly and freshly made up, as though Hongjoong had expected their stay. Juyeon and Younghoon exchanged a surprised glance. 

“Your grace,” San said quietly, catching him by the arm as he made to walk inside, “a moment, if that’s alright?” 

Juyeon nodded Younghoon away, and San waited until he had followed Hyunjin and Chan into the guest suite before turning to Juyeon. Next to him, Wooyoung’s face had lost its familiar bright spark, his mouth a thin, anxious line. 

“Your grace,” San said, “I do hope you are not putting too much faith in this reunion.” 

Juyeon blinked, taken aback. 

“I don’t know what you mean?” 

San frowned. “You say this is all to find his murderer, which, fine, okay, I understand the need for vengeance, especially when a political engagement is broken.”

Juyeon nodded, mystified. He couldn’t see what angle San was taking, and it left him feeling a little adrift. 

“From what I’ve heard of your relationship,” San said, “you did not part on the best of terms, before his life ended. Am I correct?” 

Again, Juyeon nodded, a faint hint of trepidation growing. San chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about what to say next. 

“Talking to dead loved ones - it never brings the relief that one hopes for. Whatever you may be searching for, he may not be able to grant it.” 

“What- what do you mean?” 

San wrinkled his nose, his brow furrowed in thought. “When a person is murdered, they unsurprisingly die in a state of extreme emotion, usually anger or sadness. That carries over, your grace. His soul may not physically be able to experience positive emotion, be that forgiveness or nostalgia or anything else you hoped he would associate with you. Especially if he died thinking you hated him.” 

Juyeon’s throat dried up, his body losing tension like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

“I- I didn’t realize-” 

San smiled, something old and sad in his eyes. “You may not have consciously hoped for it, your grace, but I could see it when we met in the temple, that desire to look him in the eye and ask him to forgive you.” 

With a start, Juyeon realized his face was wet. He raised a trembling hand and touched the tears on his cheeks in surprise. San offered him a scrap of black lace, which he took with a nod of thanks and dried his eyes. 

“All warriors claim they want vengeance,” San said. “When what most actually want is the simple permission to go on living their lives.” 

“I need to try,” Juyeon said, crumpling the lace in his hand. “Some part of him needs to know that- that I regret what I said. That I wish my last words to him had been different. Even if he can’t forgive me for them. at least he’ll know that I- that I did care for him.” 

“At the end of the day,” San said quietly. “Trying is the best we can do.” 

He curled his fingers around Wooyoung’s waist, drawing him close, and ushered Juyeon towards the guest suite door. 

“Morning always comes faster than one expects, no matter how much we all fear it,” he said. “Get some sleep, your grace.” 

  
  
  
  


The cathedral was not, as Juyeon expected, a massive building of worship, but rather a smaller version of the throne room, complete with an identical facsimile of the throne itself and several large, stained-glass windows. In the center of the stone floor sat San, cross-legged and painting runes in a large circle around himself with something that looked unnervingly like blood. From the look of the thick swath of bandages around San’s wrist, he himself was the source. 

He looked up as they entered, waving his bloodied hand in greeting. 

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully. “Lovely day for a resurrection, don’t you think?” 

Wooyoung stood on the very edge of the circle, arms crossed, a skittish look about him. Every so often, he glanced over at a set of doors near the back of the room, as though expecting someone. Hongjoong was firmly planted on his throne, barefoot and dressed in a long, white undershirt that stopped at mid-thigh. Sitting in front of the throne between his legs was Seonghwa, head tilted back and eyes closed, his shirt unbuttoned once more, the king’s hand tracing light patterns over the tattoo. 

“I’m almost ready,” San called out, and raised himself up on his knees to lean over his bloody artwork. “Pity none of you are blood relatives, that would have been far more helpful than my rancid old blood.” 

“Yeah,” Hyunjin muttered, eying the runes. “Pity.” 

Juyeon’s eyes flickered from the glass windows to the king and back again, something important lingering just out of reach in his mind. That sigil, ever-present, was marked in several places around the cathedral, including the four compass points of San’s summoning circle. Juyeon stared at it, drawn messily in red, and felt his heart screech to a halt.

Realization struck in a horrific moment of clarity. He  _ had _ seen that sigil before, seared into delicate flesh, the skin around it blackened and puckered from the heat.

"We need to go," he said abruptly, voice thick with some unidentifiable emotion. Younghoon looked over at him, startled.

"Juyeon, what-,"

"This was a mistake," he said, his hands trembling as he grasped Younghoon's arm urgently. "That- that symbol- above the throne, on Seonghwa’s chest- I knew I'd seen it before but I couldn't remember where-"

“It’s the mark of the king, Juyeon,” Younghoon said slowly, glancing over at someone behind them, confusion clear on his face. Juyeon shook his head, digging his fingernails into Younghoon’s arm,  _ needing _ him to understand- 

Chan appeared suddenly beside him, a firm hand resting on Juyeon's shoulder. Panic made him jerk, backing away from the king who'd brought him here. 

"Your grace," Chan said evenly, holding his hands up to appear unthreatening. "What's unsettled you like this?"

Juyeon gestured wildly at the cathedral windows, at the grey king and the hand that rested possessively over Seonghwa's tattoo. "That sigil-'' he said, urgency making his words stumble over each other. "It was burnt into Hyunjae's hand, the night he died."

Chan’s face twisted in shock, dread unexpectedly clouding his eyes. 

“You never mentioned a sigil,” he said, and behind him, Hyunjin went very, very still. 

“They- they thought it a warning sign from the gods,” Juyeon stuttered out, still slowly backing away from Chan and Hyunjin. “They made sure to cover it during the funeral.” 

As though confirming his suspicions, he saw Chan glance nervously over at Hongjoong, who looked deeply unimpressed by the whole thing. 

“Whatever you are implying,  _ your grace _ ,” Hongjoong said, “please do us all a favor and state it outright. None of us have time for this.” 

Juyeon stared at the king of the dead, a ringing in his ears. 

“Did you kill my fiancé?” he breathed. 

Hongjoong stared back unflinchingly. 

“I did not,” he said. “But I may have sealed the beast that did.” 

“Hongjoong-” Chan started, but fell silent when Hongjoong raised his hand. 

“How do I know I can believe you?” Juyeon said, eyes burning and his lungs aching in his chest as he struggled to calm down. 

"I have sealed a great many beasts in my time, prince," Hongjoong said slowly. "I do not keep track of every single one, something which I admittedly have regretted in the past. But do  _ not _ think you can walk into my court and accuse me of murder. I had no reason to want your fiancé dead."

A warm hand rested against the back of Juyeon’s neck, and he allowed Younghoon to pull him close, pressing their foreheads together as he helped Juyeon breathe. From the floor, San made a small noise of triumph and got to his feet. 

“If you’re all done with the dramatics,” he said, wiping his hands off on the back of his trousers, “I think I’m ready.” 

“And that’s my cue,” Wooyoung said. He saluted ostentatiously to the king, and vanished in the blink of an eye. 

“He’s not staying?” Hyunjin asked curiously, and Juyeon looked at San as he shook his head. 

“Can’t risk being that close to the frontier between worlds,” San said. “He might get pulled back  _ in _ while I’m trying to get Hyunjae  _ out _ .” He stretched his arms out with a grunt of satisfaction, and then began to unwind the bells from around his hand. Still unnerved, Juyeon kept his hand firmly in Younghoon’s, squeezing his friend’s fingers for strength. 

“Hope you’re not expecting fireworks,” San said, and, with the strip of leather in his hand, flicked his wrist. A loud, ear-splitting chorus of bells erupted from the center of the circle, the bloody runes exploding into bright, blinding light as they were activated. San’s necromancer marks came to life, writhing all over his exposed skin, curling upwards and across his face, his eyes a pure white. Below his feet, the floor began to shiver and smoke, and a foul stench of something sour and decayed filled the room. 

“Come on,” San cooed, voice sweet and coaxing. It echoed strangely in the cathedral, as though Juyeon could hear it inside his own skull. “I can see you, come on. Come back with me.” 

With a loud crack, the stone the runes were painted on split in half, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. The light vanished, San coughing as he waved the dust away from his face, his marks and eyes back to normal. His bells, hanging limply from his hand, were quiet once more. 

“That was fun,” he wheezed, stumbling out of the broken circle. A thin trickle of blood escaped his nose, and he sniffed and wiped it away with a grimace. He looked as though he’d aged several years in the last thirty seconds, his face pale and tinged green, and his hands shook violently. Juyeon, his heart in his throat, took a careful step forward. 

“Did- did it not work?” 

San sniffed again, wrapping his bells back around his wrist. 

“Of course it did, what do you take me for?” he said, sounding insulted. “Give him a moment to gather his bearings, will you. It’s not every day you get dragged back out from your eternal sleep.” 

He stumbled suddenly, and Juyeon lurched forward to catch him before he hit the ground. San was horrifyingly light in his arms, his limbs unnaturally slender and his skin paper-thin. Juyeon had just managed to haul him back to his feet when a cold blast of air rushed through the cathedral, and he felt San shudder. 

“A man is dead for _ five minutes _ and his fiancé immediately throws himself into the arms of another.” 

Ice flooded Juyeon’s veins, before it was immediately replaced with something akin to euphoria. Behind him, Younghoon yelped and swore, his shock echoed by Hyunjin’s stream of colorful curses. Juyeon glanced down at San, hardly daring to believe it, and San grinned back at him.

“Greet your Hyunjae, your grace,” he whispered. 

Juyeon slowly turned around, clenching his fists against the tremors that had broken out at the sound of his voice, and felt his breath leave him. 

Hyunjae, just as beautiful as the day he’d died, stood before him, a distinct air of disapproval about his person. 

“Hyunjae,” Juyeon croaked out. 

“Your grace,” Hyunjae said with a curt bow of his head. “You look like shit.” 

With a wild bark of laughter, Juyeon surged forward and yanked him into his arms, ignoring his spluttered protests. His shoulders were just as broad as he’d remembered, his waist narrowing beneath Juyeon’s hands, and if he closed his eyes and pretended really,  _ really _ hard, Juyeon could almost ignore how icy cold Hyunjae’s skin felt against his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's baaaack :D


	5. hyunjae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back and happy new year! this chapter got a lil wordy - couldn't figure out where to end things without leaving a scene dangling awkwardly, so here we are. 
> 
> (genshin's ascension quest at ar25 is kicking my ass :') pls send thoughts and prayers.)

"We don't have to do this now."

"I want to."

"Hyunjae-"

"Your grace," Hyunjae interrupted with a frown. "This is the sole reason I'm even here, we need to do this. No point in putting it off."

Juyeon looked helplessly at Younghoon, who hadn't taken his eyes off of Hyunjae since he'd returned, awe still clear on his face.

"Younghoon," Juyeon said, but his lieutenant just shrugged.

"He's not wrong, Juyeon."

Juyeon deflated at the lack of support, and Hyunjae shot him an attempt at a smile.

"I'll be fine," he said awkwardly, and Juyeon had to stop himself from sweeping him up into his arms once more.

"My Justice knows what he's doing," Hongjoong said, once more draped over his throne. Seonghwa remained at his feet, his head resting against Hongjoong’s thigh. "It's just memory - it won't harm him."

Mingi looked up at his king’s words, still seeming half asleep. He stood draped over Yunho's shoulders, the only other man in the cathedral close to his height. The Justice of Fate had been hauled out of his bed shortly after Hyunjae had been summoned, his five Mnemosyne bells strapped to a bandolier across his back, over his rumpled sleep shirt.

"I can block the emotions associated with the memory, if you want," Mingi offered around a yawn. "If the memories are truly lost, they won't linger once we're done questioning him."

"Yes," Juyeon said at once. "Do that, he shouldn't have to be _traumatized_."

"I've already died once," Hyunjae pointed out dryly. "If that didn't traumatize me, I'm pretty sure this won't do the job." 

“Block them,” Juyeon ordered, and pretended he didn’t see Hyunjae’s exasperated eye roll. Mingi saluted one-handed, the other trying to worm its way into Yunho’s pocket, and Yunho jerked at the sudden movement. 

“Can I help you with something?” he spluttered, wiggling away from Mingi’s wandering hands. Mingi ignored him, shoving his hand deeper into Yunho’s trouser pocket, and pulled out a coin. He waved it in Yunho’s face, who looked a little sheepish. 

“Forgot I had that, sorry.” 

“How am I expected to work without my good luck charm?” Mingi said, slipping the coin into the pocket of his sleep pants. He straightened up and unclasped the bandolier, loosening it enough to spin it around his body, bringing the bells to the front. He tapped the first bell with a cheerful “hello!”, unhooked the second, tapped the third and fourth in a similar fashion, and unhooked the fifth. He arranged them both in his right hand, the handles caught between his fingers. 

“Ready when you are,” he nodded at Hyunjae, and the other man swallowed heavily. Juyeon clenched his fists, resisting the desire to reach out to him. 

“Okay,” Hyunjae said, voice a little unsteady. “Okay, do it.” 

With a slow, dream-like movement of his hand, Mingi rang the two bells, three times in quick succession. They sang through the air, far softer than San’s bells had been, and the sound curled gently around Juyeon like an embrace. Even though he was not their target, the bells still wormed their way into his mind. Vague shadows of long forgotten memories drifted to the surface, almost taking shape before vanishing again. Juyeon blinked several times, trying to clear the trance-like fog from his head. 

His companions seemed similarly affected, Hyunjin’s eyes glazed over, the man swaying slightly where he stood. Chan had a hand firmly wrapped around the charm on his necklace, as though it alone was keeping him anchored. Younghoon, unsurprisingly, had his hands firmly over his ears, his distrust for the necromancers anything but subtle. 

“How are we doing?” murmured Mingi, and Juyeon turned back to his fiancé. Hyunjae’s face had gone slack, eyes shrouded in a murky haze as he drifted. At Mingi’s question, he tilted his head, and Mingi hummed, satisfied. 

“Go ahead, your grace,” he said to Juyeon, and Juyeon carefully stepped forward. 

“Hyunjae?” he said hesitantly. Hyunjae hummed, sounding pleasantly unfocused. “Do you know where you are?” 

Hyunjae hummed again, a hint of amusement coming through. “Cathedral,” he said. “The king of the dead’s palace.” 

“Yeah,” Juyeon said, biting down on his bottom lip. ‘Do you know how you got here?” 

Hyunjae blinked slowly. 

“Summoned,” he said after a moment. “Someone pulled me back.” 

“Yeah,” Juyeon said again. “Yeah, that was San. He brought you to us. Do you know where you were?” 

A tiny shiver ran through Hyunjae’s body, and Juyeon almost regretted asking.

“Dead,” Hyunjae said shortly. Juyeon’s chest ached, hating every moment of this, and it took him several tries to ask the next question. 

“Do you- did - can you-” 

“Hyunjae,” Chan said, taking over when he saw Juyeon’s face crumple. “Can you remember the night you died?” 

Hyunjae nodded, a small frown creasing his brow. 

“The dinner,” he said. “The welcome dinner, for the eastern king. We went up to the gallery, Hyunjin wanted to see the watercolors-”

Juyeon shot a quick glance at the soldier in question. Hyunjin looked overwhelmed, watching Hyunjae with a sad smile on his face. 

“We fought.” 

Mingi raised his eyebrows. “You and Hyunjin?”

Hyunjae shook his head, his frown deepening. “Me and the prince.” 

Guilt reared its ugly head, regret thick in Juyeon’s throat, and he had to force himself not to look away. 

“He thought- he thought I was being unfaithful. We fought, I went to bed angry, I _hate_ going to bed angry. It always gives me nightmares.” 

“Do you remember how you died?” Chan said quietly, and Juyeon held his breath. 

“I thought I was dreaming,” Hyunjae said. “But the air _burned_ \- it was too hot to be a dream. My room was bright, when I opened my eyes, it took me a moment to realize there was something in there with me. It had claws, and teeth, and wings, and fire - _so_ much fire- like the old paintings of the gods-”

Hyunjae shuddered, and Juyeon ached to reach out and hold him. 

“It had the most beautiful eyes, like shards of diamond, but- but they were in pain. The demon- it was crying, the most awful sound I’ve ever heard, like it was suffering. It came in through the window, that’s what woke me up - the glass breaking. It-”

Hyunjae gasped and choked out a sob. 

“It kissed me,” he whispered. A tear escaped and left a shining trail down one cheek. 

“It kissed me and held me down and said my name before it tore my throat out.” 

"You said he wouldn't feel anything," Juyeon hissed, helplessly watching Hyunjae cry. 

"He shouldn't be," Mingi said, frowning in confusion. "Something about the memory is fighting my bells." 

"Stop it, then," Juyeon ordered. "We've heard enough, he's _suffering_."

“Your grace-” 

“ _Now_ ,” Juyeon snarled, and Mingi pursed his lips, evidently unimpressed at being ordered around. Nevertheless, he moved his bells to his left hand and rang them once. With an almost violent jerk of his head, Hyunjae returned, looking alarmed at the presence of tears on his face. He looked at Juyeon expectantly, hope painfully bright on his face. 

“Did that help?” 

Juyeon moved to his side, sick of trying to keep his distance. Hyunjae eyed him strangely but didn’t question him. 

“It did,” Juyeon said. “You did magnificently.” 

Hyunjae’s lips parted around an ‘o’ of surprise, a new warmth to his eyes, before he gave Juyeon the tiniest smile. Juyeon smiled back helplessly. 

“Your majesty!” 

Hyunjin’s sudden cry drew Juyeon’s and Hyunjae’s attention, and they turned to see Chan stumble to the bottom of the stairs at the base of the throne, sinking to his knees. 

“Hongjoong-” he said, something painful and beseeching his voice. “Tell me he didn’t do this.” 

The king of the dead sat forward, disrupting Seonghwa’s rest, a sharp look of concern on his face. 

“Chan,” he said, “it makes sense. My binding sigil on his hand, Hyunjae’s description, you knew this was a possibility when he was sealed-” 

He was cut off by Chan’s sharp cry of agony, the king dropping his face in his hands. Hyunjin darted forward, collapsing next to his king in a panic. 

“Your majesty, please, whatever you’re thinking-” 

“It has to be, Hyunjin,” Chan interrupted, staggering wildly to his feet. “You heard Hongjoong-” 

“He might be wrong-!”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Hongjoong snarled, but was summarily ignored. 

“Can someone please tell us what you’re so worked up about?” Younghoon said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else at that moment. Juyeon saw Chan tense, before he turned to face them, distress and regret in his eyes. 

“That demon he’s describing,” Chan said, his face ashen. 

“It’s Felix. I think the demon’s Felix.” 

  
  


Perched on the throne steps, Juyeon sipped on his sickeningly sweet tea slowly, the liquid still scaldingly hot. On his left, Younghoon was slamming back shots of a mystery clear alcohol San had offered them. On his right, Hyunjae was unnervingly still, staring at his hands. He had returned uninjured, unblemished, but Juyeon swore he could still see an imprint of the sigil seared into the palm of his hand. 

Chan, being force-fed cup after cup of warm water by a pale Hyunjin, didn’t look like he was getting any better, his entire body still trembling. A thousand questions raced through Juyeon’s mind as he eyed the king, none wanting to form into coherent sentences, but luckily, Younghoon didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“Is he like Jeongin?” Younghoon asked, his words slightly slurred. “Was he also cursed by the eternal fire?” 

Chan laughed hollowly and shook his head. 

“Cursed?” he repeated. “No, not quite.” 

He rubbed a hand over his face and pushed Hyunjin’s insistent hands away. 

“Felix _is_ the eternal fire.”

Juyeon gaped at him dumbly, wondering if this was some kind of grossly-timed, elaborate joke. He glanced at Younghoon, who looked similarly thunderstruck. 

“That’s not possible,” Younghoon said. “Someone would have known - a god doesn’t just- the fire fields have been burning for over _four thousand years_ -”

“Yeah,” interrupted Chan. “I know.” He suddenly looked very tired.

“How?’ Juyeon croaked, and Chan rubbed a weary hand over his face. 

“Would you accept that it’s a long story, your grace?” he asked. “One for another time?” 

“The eternal fire belongs to Ares,” Younghoon said faintly. “A god’s weapon made human, how did you-”

“Please,” Chan begged. “Please, not now.” 

"My bindings wouldn't have failed on their own," Hongjoong said, tracing his thumb thoughtfully over the swell of his bottom lip. "They've held equally powerful beings at bay in the past, and Felix took them willingly."

“So, then,” Juyeon said hesitantly. “How-?” 

“Someone must have removed them during the night and set him upon your fiancé,” Chan said, anguish thick in his voice. Younghoon opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly at a loss for words. 

“Who would do that?” Juyeon said, an ugly suspicion growing in his mind. Something in his voice must have tipped Chan off, because he turned to him immediately. 

“No-one in my party would have done that to you,” he said. “We were all there to barter peace, not incite another war. We’ve only just recovered from the northern invasion.” 

“Why should any of us trust you?” snapped Younghoon, getting unsteadily to his feet and moving to stand between Chan and Juyeon. “For all we know, you _stole_ the eternal fire from your god. How has Ares not wiped you off the face of the earth yet?” 

Hyunjin was in front of Chan in an instant, one of his sheathed swords held before him warningly. Hongjoong remained quiet, watching the entire thing with a somewhat manic gleam to his eyes. The grey king was clearly enjoying this. 

“I swear I didn’t release him, Juyeon,” Chan insisted, ignoring Younghoon’s accusation. “I don't know what else I can say to convince you of my innocence.” 

“I might have an idea,” Hongjoong piped up suddenly, and Chan jerked, as though he had forgotten he was there. Hongjoong giggled, a high, crazed sound, and nodded at the guard by the door. 

“Yeosang!” he called out, and his face split into a wide grin. “Come and serve your king!” 

There was a brief pause, his voice’s echo fading away, before the guard stepped aside, a door opened and a slender young man entered the cathedral. A set of bells strapped to the belt around his hips glimmered rose gold and screamed with every step he took. He stopped in front of the steps to the throne and bowed. 

"They're restless this morning," Hongjoong said, nodding at the bells. Yeosang idly raised a hand to trace over the handle of the smallest one. It wailed at his touch, pain shuddering through the air.

"They know he's around," he said, voice surprisingly deep for one so waif-life. "His resentment poisons their magic, they want him gone."

Juyeon and Younghoon shared a mystified glance, but it appeared no-one in Hongjoong's court was going to clarify Yeosang's words further.

“This is my Justice of Banishing, master of the Keres bells, and my favorite little canary,” Hongjoong explained, stepping down towards him. The king’s sleep shirt, barely long enough to maintain his decency, exposed a large tattoo crawling down the back of his left thigh. “He warns me of any danger or deceit festering in my court.” 

He came to a halt in front of Yeosang, and raised a hand to gently cup the man’s jaw.

“Are you willing to help us?” Hongjoong said softly, and Yeosang nodded, an open, trusting smile on his face. 

"Will you bring me back, my lord?" 

"Always."

"Then yes," Yeosang breathed. "I am willing."

Hongjoong leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Yeosang's in a small, sweet blessing. 

“Good boy,” he whispered, then fastened both hands around Yeosang's throat and began to squeeze. 

Hyunjin let out an alarmed shout, stepping forward as though he could stop the king of the dead, but he was held back by a firm hand on his arm, Yunho’s jaw clenched as he watched. Hyunjin reached for a sword, but met Chan's eyes just as his fingers brushed the pommel. His king shook his head, gaze fixed on Yeosang, and Hyunjin, biting his lip, drew his hand away.

“Let them in,” Hongjoong crooned sweetly. “Let them listen.” 

Yeosang choked and fought, his hands scrabbling weakly at those around his neck, until his eyes rolled back in his skull, revealing the whites, and his arms went limp, strength fleeing his body. Hongjoong instantly released his grip on his throat and spun Yeosang around to face them. 

“Speak, king of fire,” he barked. “And let us hear if your words are true.” 

A look of horror still clear on his face, it took Chan a couple of tries before he could stutter out full sentences. 

“I didn’t unleash him,” he said, and a wave of frostbitten air washed over them. Yeosang, eyes white and mouth open, took a moment to react. 

“I didn’t unleash him,” Yeosang finally echoed, the sound terrifying and grating, overlaid with the agonized howls of a thousand dying men and women. It cut through Juyeon’s head like a knife, filling his skull with a pounding reverberation, pain lancing its way down his spine, and he hunched over where he sat, grasping at his head, trying to block out the sound. 

“I-” Chan gasped, similarly incapacitated. “Nor did any of my men. I never gave those orders.” 

There was a heavy pause, and then-

“I never gave those orders,” Yeosang echoed. 

“I swear, I don’t know who did this,” Chan ground out through gritted teeth, and a drop of blood trickled out of his nose. 

Yeosang was quiet for a long, harrowing moment. 

“I don’t know who did this,” the voices screamed. 

Hongjoong, a look of satisfaction on his face, unhooked the middle bell on Yeosang’s belt, and with a near silent “ _thank you_ ”, he raised it to Yeosang’s face and rang it, just once. 

A high sound like cracking glass pierced through the air, and Yeosang blinked, once, twice, and then shook his head, life returning to his limbs. The suffocating cold left the room just as quickly as it had entered, and the screams in Juyeon’s head faded away to nothing but a faint haze of white noise. 

"Did I help?" Yeosang asked, sweet and eager, and Hongjoong nodded proudly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He shot Juyeon an expectant look. 

"Yes," Juyeon wheezed. "Yes, thank you, Yeosang."

Hyunjin helped his king to his feet, Chan’s face chalk white, blood smeared messily where Hyunjin had tried to wipe it away. Both men looked somewhat dazed, and Juyeon felt a surge of pity for the king in front of him. 

“Your majesty,” Juyeon said gently, “do you know who else knew about Felix?” 

Chan mutely shook his head, still obviously overwhelmed, and Hyunjin bit his lip nervously. 

“Our entire delegation knew,” he said. “Changbin and Minho were present when Hongjoong bound him.” 

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully. “My Justices all knew, but none have left our borders in over five years, long before Chan brought his eternal fire south and asked me to contain him.” 

“There was a voice,” Hyunjae said suddenly, and Juyeon whipped his head around expectantly. Hyunjae was frowning at the floor, as though it held the key to his memories, and made a small noise of frustration. 

“In my bedroom,” he said slowly. “I remember - there was someone else there that night - a man, I think. I can’t remember what he said, but I’d recognize his voice if I heard it again.” 

Juyeon shot a questioning look at Mingi, who shook his head and gestured to his silent bells.

"You-" Juyeon said, "you remember that night? On your own?" 

Hyunjae shook his head, still frowning. "Only bits and pieces - blurred fragments, like a photograph of a moment captured but not quite developed properly." 

Juyeon automatically reached out for his shoulder, wanting to comfort him, but paused just before his fingers made contact. Hyunjae raised an eyebrow when he saw him, and Juyeon awkwardly pulled his hand back, feeling unexpectedly shy. 

“We need to go home,” Younghoon said, and shrunk back slightly when everyone turned their eyes on him. “I’m just saying - if it’s someone in the court, still in the palace, Hyunjae will be able to tell us.” 

An awful thought entered Juyeon’s mind, and he felt the blood drain from his face as the world tilted in front of his eyes. Younghoon, still facing him, surged forward in alarm. 

“Juyeon-!”

“Felix,” Juyeon said, shakily getting to his feet. “Felix is still at the palace.” 

Younghoon nodded, offering Juyeon an arm for support as he swayed. 

“He is, I don’t-” 

“We left my family,” Juyeon whispered. “We left them with Felix. What if the man who did this is still there, too?” 

Understanding dawned on Younghoon’s face, before he too when deathly pale. 

“Chanhee,” he breathed out, panic coloring his words. “Changmin, Sunwoo-”

“My brothers,” Juyeon rasped out. “Soohee, Jihae.” His hands had started to tremble, and he grabbed Hyunjae’s shirt, shaking it urgently. Startled, Hyunjae curled a cool hand around Juyeon’s wrist, holding it tight. 

“Hyunjae, Kevin’s still there.” 

Hyunjae gaped at him, eyes widening in growing horror. 

“No,” he said. “No, Kevin was supposed to return home after the wedding, there’d be no reason for him to remain-” 

“Jacob,” Juyeon interrupted, and he saw Hyunjae’s face fall. “I knew- Jacob intended to court him properly, after the wedding was over. I have a feeling your death hastened things.” 

Hyunjae stared at him, nails digging crescents into Juyeon’s skin. 

“We need to go,” Younghoon repeated, and turned wildly on Chan and Hyunjin. “Your majesty-” 

“Yes,” Chan said, color slowly returning to his face. Hyunjin cautiously removed his hands from his king, seeing if he could stand on his own, but hurriedly replaced them when Chan’s knees buckled. “Yes, I need to take my Felix back.” 

“And destroy the man who set him upon my fiancé,” Juyeon added savagely, fear slowly being overtaken by a burning need to see someone _pay_. Hyunjae’s hand loosened its grip, and Juyeon twisted his arm out of his grip and tangled their fingers together properly before he could slip away. 

“Nice,” San said, “I haven’t been to the middle kingdom in ages.” 

Juyeon and Hyunjae both turned to look at him questioningly, and he rolled his eyes. 

“How exactly do you think anchors work, your grace?” he said, hands on his hips. “Where your Hyunjae goes, I go.” 

Juyeon ignored the curious expression on Hyunjae’s face at San’s choice of words, too panicked at that moment to be embarrassed, and turned instead to a remarkably silent Hongjoong. 

“My lord-”

“Don’t,” Hongjoong interrupted. “Of course San may go-”

“ _Thank you_ -”

“We’ll leave at sunset.” 

Juyeon paused. 

“ _We_?” 

Hongjoong sent him a cutting look of disdain. “You didn’t think I’d let any of my Justices past my borders unaccompanied, did you?” 

He snapped his fingers and Yunho stepped forward. 

“My lord?” 

“I want to talk to Jongho before we go,” Hongjoong said. “I’d like some reassurance that we'll have support, should we need it.” 

Yunho bowed, his hand behind his back, his bells silent. 

“Of course, my lord. I’ll have him meet us at the west gate this evening.” 

Hongjoong dismissed him with a wave of his hand, eyes drifting to his crow. Seonghwa had remained completely silent through-out the entire ordeal, and got to his feet when Hongjoong held out his hand. 

“Well, my love?” Hongjoong asked, drawing him close. “Will you go north with me?” 

Seonghwa curled a hand over Hongjoong’s jaw, tracing his thumb over the metal in his bottom lip.

“I’d go anywhere you asked, my lord,” Seonghwa answered tenderly. Juyeon looked away, the intimacy of the moment making a strange, wriggly feeling bloom in his chest, and met Hyunjae’s eyes. There was something soft and curious in the curve of his mouth, and Juyeon followed his gaze when he pointedly glanced down. 

“Oh,” Juyeon said, and blushed lightly. His hand still gripped Hyunjae’s, as though he were afraid he’d float away if he left go, and for a moment, Juyeon allowed himself to stare at their intertwined hands. Hyunjae was not a small man by any means, long limbs and sturdy shoulders cutting an impressive silhouette, but his hand seemed overwhelmed wrapped up in Juyeon’s, his pale fingers dwarfed by Juyeon’s own. 

“Forgive me,” he mumbled, and made to let go. To his surprise, Hyunjae just tightened his hold.

“Don’t,” he said, and somehow, against all Juyeon’s expectations of how the dead worked, managed to blush as well. He ducked his head so Juyeon couldn't see his face, hiding behind his hair. “I- I like holding hands. I find it very comforting - it drove Kevin insane when we were younger.” 

A pleasant warmth filled Juyeon’s chest, and he squeezed Hyunjae's hand gently. Hyunjae looked up and gave Juyeon a small but sincere smile. 

“Excuse us, gentlemen,” Hongjoong said, his eyes still fixed on Seonghwa’s face. “We must prepare for the journey ahead. Yunho will show you to the stables when it’s time.” 

“Will your kingdom be alright, without its king?” Juyeon asked, dragging his eyes away from Hyunjae. Hongjoong hummed the affirmative. 

“I’ll be leaving a Justice in my stead, to keep the court in line,” he said. Mingi perked up at that, smiling brightly from where he stood with Yeosang dozing on his back, Mingi swaying back and forth gently as though rocking a child while they slept. 

“I won’t fail you, my lord,” he said cheerfully.

“My crows will be watching,” Seonghwa added, and got a sarcastic thumbs up in return. 

  
  


Their departure from the king’s stables was far less chaotic than the one from Juyeon’s own, the king readying his horse while Seonghwa, already settled into the saddle on his own mare, watched and teasingly critiqued his technique. 

Juyeon greeted his own steed with a soft boop to the nose, smiling affectionately when he ducked his head and closed his eyes as Juyeon scratched behind an ear. Younghoon’s horse was far less amenable, appearing to still be upset at being left behind at that city inn. He tossed his head and backed up as Younghoon approached, snorting irritably when Younghoon placed the saddle upon his back. 

Wooyoung joined them just as the sun disappeared behind a distant hill, appearing out of nowhere and immediately launching himself at Yunho with a loud cackle. A soft huff of laughter behind him caught Juyeon’s attention, and he turned to see San watching his lover, a melancholy edge to his smile.

“Is something wrong?” Juyeon asked, twisting the reins around his fist. San shook his head, but Juyeon saw the sorrow in his eyes grow as they drifted over to where Hyunjae was assisting Hyunjin and his horse, clearly pretending that he knew what he was doing. Juyeon smiled fondly, muffling a laugh when Hyunjae stepped back triumphantly, only for Hyunjin’s saddlebag to flop sadly to the ground. 

“You may have noticed how quickly and easily Wooyoung forgives,” San said, and Juyeon nodded. Their disagreements did not seem to have a lasting mark on their relationship, Wooyoung back to clinging to his lover mere hours later. 

“It takes a lot of conscious effort for ghosts to hold on to new emotion or memory, my prince,” San said sadly, watching Wooyoung try to climb Yunho like a tree. “They do _experience_ them, obviously, strong but fleeting. But for something to stick _after_ death, it has to really make an impact. The fact that he can love me is nothing short of miraculous.” 

Juyeon swallowed heavily, thinking back to the way Hyunjae had smiled ever so sweetly at him that morning. 

“So,” he said hesitantly, not sure if he truly wanted an answer, “all this, what we go through now, together, Hyunjae won’t- he won’t take it with him? When he’s gone?” 

San slipped a sympathetic hand onto his shoulder, the coolness of his skin sending a faint shudder through Juyeon’s body. 

“Probably not,” San said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Being pulled back from the afterlife can be traumatizing to a soul. He’ll appreciate your kindness while he’s here.” 

San squeezed his shoulder lightly and let him go, strolling over to his own horse and checking the saddle. A movement in the corner of his eye caught Juyeon’s attention, and he turned to see Hyunjae gently petting his horse, murmuring a small hello to the animal. 

“Need any assistance, your grace?” Hyunjae said, a hand resting on the horse’s muzzle. “Hyunjin can attest to my usefulness.” 

Somewhere behind him, Hyunjin let out a cry of dismay as, one foot up in a stirrup, his entire saddle went sliding off of the back of his horse. Juyeon snorted and shook his head hurriedly. 

“I’m perfectly okay on my own, Hyunjae, thank you,” he said, and hefted himself up into the saddle. He paused a moment, stroking his horse’s mane, wondering if he was being too forward, before he caught San watching the two of them closely. 

San waggled his eyebrows, and Juyeon took the hint. 

He stuck out a hand, unexpectedly nervous, and he saw Hyunjae eye it consideringly before accepting it. With surprisingly little effort, Juyeon helped Hyunjae haul himself up onto the horse behind him, the stallion barely noticing the added weight. Hyunjae shifted cautiously, his hands finding a hold on Juyeon’s hips to keep himself steady. Cold seeped through the fabric, and Juyeon gritted his teeth against the urge to shiver. 

“Thank you, your grace-” 

“Juyeon.” 

Hyunjae tensed behind him, and Juyeon felt heat rise in his face. 

“You never- before, you never called me by my name.” 

“I- I figured you would have thought it inappropriate,” Hyunjae said, an uncharacteristic uncertainty to his words. “We aren’t married, after all.”

His hands twitched where they rested lightly on Juyeon’s body.

“I’d like you to,” Juyeon said in a rush. “If you want to, I mean. You don’t have to, of course, I wouldn’t want to make you-”

“Juyeon.”

Hyunjae said his name slowly, as though testing out the feel of it on his tongue, and goosebumps dimpled across Juyeon’s skin at the sound of it 

“Is that okay?” Juyeon asked gently, and he felt Hyunjae laugh. 

“Juyeon,” Hyunjae repeated, a little more confidently. Juyeon could hear the smile in his voice, the way the vowels shaped themselves around his happiness. 

“Juyeon!” 

Juyeon’s attention snapped to Younghoon, Hyunjae’s hands digging into his hips at the sudden shout, and Younghoon smirked at them from atop his own horse. 

“If you’re ready to leave?” 

“Of course,” Juyeon said, shaking his head slightly to clear it, and looked over to the grey king. “When you are, my lord.” 

Hongjoong astride his horse struck an imposing figure, straight-backed and encased in an exquisite silver breastplate over rich, dark leather. His massive broadsword sat strapped to his horse, who herself was a beautiful creature to behold. 

“We head to the west gate,” Hongjoong ordered. “There’s someone we need to talk to before we leave my city.” 

“If this is another necromancer, I’m going to scream,” Hyunjae murmured, his breath cool against the back of Juyeon’s neck. 

San laughed, directing his horse next to him, Wooyoung clinging to his back like a limpet. The ghost seemed curiously drained, squinting at them through lidded eyes, before he buried his face into the back of San’s fur coat. 

“No more necromancers,” San promised, following them out into the evening air. “You’ve met all of Hongjoong’s Justices anyway.” 

A second horse trotted up on their other side, Yeosang and his - for once- silent bells looking amused. 

“No more necromancers,” he agreed. “We’re to meet up with Hongjoong’s general.” 

Younghoon looked pleased by this. “Finally,” he muttered. “It will be a relief to speak to someone normal in this mad kingdom.” 

A loud, sudden bark of laughter reached their ears, and Yeosang blushed as their eyes fell upon him, even Seonghwa turning his head back in surprise. 

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” San said, a wide grin on his face. 

“Jongho died a long, long time ago.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [drops plot everywhere and flees]


	6. andante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good....morning? afternoon? evening? wherever you are! this past week has been particularly difficult because ~*~anxiety~*~ took hold and ruined things. i have a truly horrific fear of hospitals and guess where i had to go yesterday woooo (i'm fine, just an annual health check)
> 
> anyway, i'm on vacation for a lil while and things should calm down and victon's comeback made me feel Several Emotions, so all is right with the world :) enjoy!

The walk to the west gate was eerily quiet, the streets lined with people watching their king depart, all silent. Juyeon tried his best to focus on the horse in front of him, keeping his eyes fixed on the gentle sway of Yunho’s body. The man’s posture had steadily sunk as they’d walked, until he sat hunched over on his horse’s back, breathing somewhat labored. He’d brushed off Juyeon’s concerned questions with a weak smile, and his king hadn’t seemed too worried at his declining condition. 

Behind him, Hyunjae seemed nervous, his grip on Juyeon’s hips growing tighter by the minute. 

“Almost there,” Juyeon said softly, the gate looming ahead of them, and he heard Hyunjae huff out a small laugh.

“This place is creepy,” he whispered back. 

Juyeon bit back a smile. “Creepier than the afterlife?” 

Hyunjae snorted. “At least there, you _know_ everyone you meet is dead. Here, I can’t tell who’s still among the living and who’s not. It’s very unsettling.” 

They approached the massive arch of the gate, and Juyeon looked around for this dead soldier they were supposed to be meeting. There appeared no sign of anyone, and he exchanged a brief glance with a confused Younghoon. 

“We can’t wait too long,” Chan said, his horse trotting up next to Hongjoong. “Your man knows to meet us here, yes?” 

Hongjoong nodded curtly, circling his horse so he could face them. 

“Yunho?” he said expectantly, and Juyeon watched the man visibly shiver. 

“He knows,” Yunho replied, voice strained. “He’s coming.” 

Juyeon frowned, directing his horse to stand next to Yunho’s so he could see him properly. His face was pale, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and his eyes appeared unable to focus, darting around frenetically, his pupils blown wide. 

“Yunho-” Juyeon said in alarm, reaching out to him, but Hongjoong’s loud bark of “ _Don’t!”_ stopped him immediately. 

“He knows what he’s doing,” Hongjoong said. “Let my Justice work, if you please.” 

“My lord-” Juyeon began, but cut himself off when the bells on Yunho’s vambraces suddenly shivered, a wave of high, tinkling sounds that made Juyeon jerk away. Hyunjae’s arms found their way around his waist in a panic, Hyunjae pressing himself to the line of Juyeon’s back in fear as he yelped. 

The bells stopped almost as suddenly as they’d begun, and Juyeon saw the moment something in Yunho _changed_ , his posture shifting from pained to almost bored, an unfamiliar smirk crossing his face. In the fading light of day, his eyes flashed green, the same unnerving shade that took over the sky each night. 

“Hello, Jongho,” Hongjoong said, and Yunho saluted. 

“My lord,” he rumbled, a strange overlay to his voice, as though more than one person were speaking. “You wanted to speak to me?” 

“I did,” Hongjoong said briskly, adjusting his gloves. “We are going north-” 

“I can see that.” 

“-and we don’t know what is waiting for us. I need your assurance that my army will be ready, should I call upon you.” 

Yunho rolled his eyes, a very strange sight to see on a normally so sweet and respectful man. “My lord,” he said, “when have we ever _not_ come to your aide?” 

“It’s been twenty seven years since your army was last needed, Jongho,” Hongjoong said. “I am simply reminding you of the vow you and your men made to me.” 

“ _Twenty seven_ ?” Hyunjae hissed in disbelief. “Just how old is the king of the dead?” His arms were like iron around Juyeon, ice cold and holding on for dear life. Juyeon knew it probably wasn’t the best time to get distracted, but he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased, Hyunjae’s apparent comfort around him sending a contented spark of _something_ down his spine. 

“If you call us, we will come,” Yunho said. “We will not let your men die on foreign soil.” 

Hongjoong tilted his head in thanks. “That’s all I needed to hear, Jongho. You may go.” 

Yunho bowed as best he could while atop a horse, then turned his gaze to another, who’d been watching the exchange with a white-knuckled hand gripping his bells. 

“Hello, Yeosang,” Yunho smirked, and very deliberately looked him over. “You’re looking good.” Yeosang blinked back stonily. 

“Wish I could say the same,” he said, teeth gritted. “Feel free to say hi with your own mouth, next time.” 

Yunho laughed, a wild, carefree sound that was definitely _not_ his own, and winked at Yeosang. 

“I like being tall,” he said simply. “See you when I see you.” 

With that, Yunho shuddered violently before slumping over, the only thing keeping him from slipping out of the saddle entirely being the reins twisted around his wrists. His bells sang a cheerful goodbye, and he jerked back up to a proper seated position, shaking his head as though trying to get water out from his ears. 

“Thank you, Yunho,” Hongjoong said. “I know that’s not always pleasant, especially when Jongho’s in a mood.” 

Yunho smiled, his color returning to his face, and he waved off his king’s concerns. 

“You are welcome, my lord,” he said. “Sorry for that, Yeosang.” 

Yeosang snorted and shook his head. “No worries,” he said. “Next time he manifests properly, I’ll be sure to kick him somewhere even death will feel.” 

“As delightful as that was,” Chan interrupted, sounding impatient. “Now that you’ve gotten what you needed, we should be off.” 

“Of course, your majesty,” Hongjoong drawled, and gestured to the gate with a flourish. “After you.” 

  
  
  
  


The night was cold, their journey to the northern border proceeding in relative peace. Chan spent the night with one hand holding his necklace, the other loosely gripping his horse’s reins. San and Wooyoung spent several hours murmuring quietly to each other, Wooyoung’s hands occasionally traveling south and making Juyeon flush hotly and look away whenever he caught them. Hyunjae’s grip had slowly slackened through the night, something odd and stiff growing in his posture as the hours had worn on, and Juyeon found himself wishing for a moment of privacy. 

Dawn was approaching by the time Hongjoong called for a pause, the sound of a river nearby making Younghoon sleepily suggest refilling their water and stretching their legs. Juyeon groaned as he dismounted, his thighs aching, and he helped an equally shaky Hyunjae down with a small noise of effort. 

“We’ll start a fire,” Chan said around a yawn. “Warm ourselves up and cook some breakfast before we continue on.” 

Hyunjae gathered everyone’s bottles, earning him an exhausted, grateful “ _thank you_ ” from a mostly comatose Hyunjin. With a quick glance to make sure Younghoon knew where he was going, Juyeon relieved Hyunjae of half his burden and turned to set off for the river. 

Hyunjae’s soft footsteps joined him, and they walked together in companionable silence until the river emerged from the hazy shadows. Hyunjae crouched down, blinking up at him expectantly, and Juyeon joined him, filling the bottles one at a time. It took him several false starts, his words evaporating as he tried to talk to his fiance, before he settled on something that had been nagging at his consciousness. 

“What can you remember of us, from before?” 

Hyunjae frowned, running his thumb over his bottom lip as he thought. 

“There wasn’t much of an _us_ ,” he said. “You were always so busy with the military and royal duties, and I had too many decorum and history classes taking up my day to put that much effort into pursuing you.” 

“The decorum classes weren’t helping,” Juyeon teased gently, and Hyunjae wrinkled his nose. 

“If you wanted to marry a statue, you should have said.” 

“I had hoped that, maybe, closer to our marriage, we could work something out between us, even if you didn’t particularly like me or my company.” 

“I didn’t- _not_ like you,” Juyeon said haltingly. “I don’t think I knew enough about you to make that decision.” 

“Both of our faults, I think,” Hyunjae said with a wry grin. “I may have felt a little neglected, but I didn’t exactly seek you out when I did have free time. And I was a terrible flirt.” 

“Shameless,” Juyeon said, smiling. “Most of the palace staff knew to avoid you when you wanted something. They were all so afraid of their inability to say no.” 

Hyunjae shrugged, looking pleased. 

“Do you- the night you died, do you remember-?” 

“Our fight?” 

“So you do.” 

“It came back during the night, in small pieces. Mingi wasn’t entirely successful at blocking the memories after all.”

Juyeon swallowed heavily, staring at the slow-moving river as alarm bells went off in the back of his mind. The sky was tinged pink, warning of the oncoming day, and in the milky blue light of dawn, he could see several small fish flit back and forth beneath the water. 

“I remember the gallery, the alcove, you thinking there was something between me and Hyunjin-”

“Hyunjae-”

“And I _think_ you called me a whore.” 

Ash filled Juyeon’s mouth, his throat achingly dry, shame filling his body like wildfire. Hyunjae smiled coldly. 

“Am I right?” 

“I-” 

Hyunjae stood, brushing off imaginary dirt from his trousers, and Juyeon scrambled up after him. 

“Hyunjae, please-” 

“You know, your grace,” he said, “after your _enthusiastic_ reaction to San bringing me back, I had thought maybe the clouds in my mind telling me to run were wrong.”

“They are, please just-” 

“I may not have remembered why, at first, but I should have known what I felt when I looked at you wouldn’t lie.” 

Desperation made Juyeon’s vision blur, his heart thudding in his chest. He had truly convinced himself that San’s warnings were wrong, that the hints of Hyunjae’s growing affection had somehow triumphed over death itself, but-

But. 

“It’s a hard thing to confront, your grace,” Hyunjae said. “Dying knowing that someone hates you.” 

“Hyunjae, I _don’t_ , please let me-” 

“At least you won’t have to suffer my presence for an eternity,” Hyunjae said dismissively. Juyeon caught him before he could walk away, spinning him around and pulling him into a desperate embrace. He poured every inch of longing and regret into the way he held him, praying to the gods that Hyunjae could somehow feel it, but he stood unmoving in Juyeon’s arms. 

“Let me make it up to you, Hyunjae,” Juyeon pleaded, drawing back. “I don’t- I’ve _never_ hated you, let me prove it.” 

“What good will that do, your grace?” Hyunjae said, eyebrow raised. “Not like it will change anything. The end is waiting for me, whatever you do. Don’t exhaust yourself trying to prove something to a dead man.” 

He pushed Juyeon away and gathered up as many bottles as he could, walking back to their rest stop without looking back, and Juyeon was left with nothing but guilt and the feeling of him in his arms. 

  
  
  


Of all people, Wooyoung was the only one to notice something had happened between them when they returned. He was crouched by the beginnings of their fire, poking at the smoldering wood with a look of extreme doubt on his face as Hyunjin, crouched next to him, fiddled with something Juyeon couldn’t see. 

“How sure are you that you know what you’re doing?” Wooyoung muttered, and then yelped and fell backwards in surprise as the wood exploded into flames. Hyunjin, cackling, patted him on the head and stood up. 

“Never doubt,” he said smugly, and Wooyoung cursed colorfully as Hyunjin hauled him back to his feet. Wooyoung, a pout still on his face, glanced over at Juyeon and Hyunjae as they set the water down, and Juyeon saw him frown. He tried to send Wooyoung a reassuring smile, but felt it melt into a grimace, and Wooyoung’s frown deepened. 

“Your grace-” 

“Time for breakfast!” Juyeon interrupted, injecting false cheer into his voice. “Or what passes as it out here, anyway.” 

They scraped together some food and settled around the fire to eat, Hyunjae silent and unmoving at Juyeon’s side. The clearing they had stopped at was big enough for them to sit somewhat spread out, Hongjoong and his men far away enough for Juyeon to not be able to hear as Yeosang and Yunho quietly chatted. San and Wooyoung sat curled up together, Wooyoung helping a trembling San eat, his gentle concern making Juyeon’s chest ache. 

Chan and Hyunjin both wolfed down their food as though they were afraid someone would try and take it from them, Chan landing up with hiccups from eating too quickly and scowling as Hyunjin smothered a laugh and offered him some water. 

Juyeon managed two bites of his breakfast before his stomach turned, sadness making it reject the food, and he set his bowl down with a muffled sigh. Footsteps made him look up, and Wooyoung stood before them, arms crossed. 

“What happened?” 

Juyeon blinked, taken aback by his bluntness, and chanced a quick glance at Hyunjae. He stared at Wooyoung, eyes flitting over to Juyeon’s face, before he looked away and stared off into the distance. 

“Don’t ignore me,” Wooyoung snapped. “I’m dead, not _blind_ , I can see something’s changed between you and it’s messing with San.” 

“Why would it mess with San?” Juyeon asked, and Wooyoung took this as a sign his presence was welcomed and folded his legs beneath him, sitting down in a surprising show of grace. 

“He’s our anchor,” Wooyoung said simply. “He can feel some of our emotions on a surface level, and _yours_ -” he pointed at Hyunjae accusingly, “are all over the place.” 

Hyunjae and Juyeon glanced at each other, and Juyeon heard Wooyoung sigh irritably. 

“It’s nothing,” Hyunjae said eventually. “Just some things that happened before I died that followed me home."

Wooyoung looked at them for a long, long time, eyes narrowed contemplatively. 

“Your grace,” he said finally. “Would you like to know how I died?” 

Juyeon blanched, blinking at Wooyoung in surprise before automatically looking over at Hyunjae to see his reaction. Curiosity was blatant on his face, but Juyeon could see the hesitance in his frown. 

“You don’t have to,” Hyunjae said awkwardly, failing to sound at all convincing, and Wooyoung laughed. 

“I know,” he said. “But I think it might help.” 

He looked across the fire to where Seonghwa and Hongjoong sat, their heads bowed close together as they shared their breakfast. His smile softened to something sadder, and he looked down at his hands, picking at the skin around his thumbnail. 

"Before Seonghwa was the king's consort,” Wooyoung began slowly. “Before he became the Justice of the Word, or the master of crows, before he held sway over the Hypnos bells, before he was _anything_ ," Wooyoung said, eyes shining, "he was mine."

Juyeon felt Hyunjae shift absently beside him, the small movement bringing their legs closer together, his thigh pressing gently against Juyeon’s. 

"Did you know, your grace, that our kingdom is mostly mountains?"

Juyeon mutely shook his head.

"The further down south you go, the higher up they get. Yeosang, Seonghwa and I grew up in one of the tiny mountain villages, miles from the palace. Seonghwa was many things in his youth, known for his beautiful face and his unending kindness, but very few knew about his ambition. I’d always known his heart lay in the capital, and we followed him when it called him away from our home."

Wooyoung’s gaze drifted to the other side of their camp, where Yeosang now sat with his eyes closed, a hand resting on one of his bells. 

"The king - he was infatuated the moment he laid eyes on my Seonghwa, and who could blame him? He gave him the Hypnos bells and taught him how to harness their power and I had to watch as he slowly stole him away from me.”

A sharp spike of pain made Juyeon look down. He’d unconsciously clenched his hand into a fist, his nails biting into soft flesh, and cool fingers gently pried it open before he could hurt himself further. Hyunjae avoided his eyes when he looked up at him, determinedly looking at Wooyoung as he continued. 

“Seonghwa swore he never did anything, never betrayed our relationship, but I had a habit of not taking people at their word. I grew up with a very unreliable father, and that developed into some pretty severe trust issues. It's why the Keres bells chose me.”

A sudden sob escaped his throat, dry and hollow. 

“It's also why they betrayed me."

"The bells know when they are being used for something selfish. When I called on the dead to see if Seonghwa had turned on me, the bells didn't like it. When Yeosang, sweet, innocent Yeosang, rang them to bring me back, there was nothing left of me to bring. The dead had torn my soul apart, and the bells had let them."

Wooyoung laughed, a painful, wretched sound. "Seonghwa accepted the king's proposal four months after I died. Their wedding night was the first time Hongjoong touched him. I had died looking for lies where none existed." 

“Why- why did San bring you back?” Juyeon asked, and Wooyoung let out a long, heavy sigh. 

“Yeosang asked him to,” he said. “He was not- the Keres bells didn’t immediately accept him as their new master, after their last one had betrayed them so recently. He was having trouble, the kind that would have ended his life had I not returned to help.” 

“After what I’d put him through,” Wooyoung said, rubbing his eyes, “after he had to watch me die like that, I owed him that much. When I heard the call in the afterlife, I didn’t know it would be San waiting for me on the other side.”

As though the mere mention of his name had summoned him, San appeared and settled down next to Wooyoung with a grunt of effort. He curled an arm around Wooyoung’s waist, tugging him closer, and Wooyoung went willingly. 

“I had been away from the capital when Wooyoung died,” San said, running a hand through Wooyoung’s hair. “We hadn’t known each other very well back then, but I returned to see Yeosang wasting away, and knew his death would follow Wooyoung’s soul for an eternity if I didn’t prevent it.” 

“You-” Juyeon’s voice came out hoarse with an unnamed emotion, and he cleared his throat a few times, blinking away tears. “You came back for Yeosang?” 

“I did,” Wooyoung said, smiling. “I may have loved Seonghwa, but Yeosangie is my soulmate. He knows every single thing about me, good and bad, and had come with us to the capital even when fear almost broke him. I couldn’t let my own bullshit destroy my best friend like that.” 

Wooyoung closed his eyes, a shudder running through him. When he opened them again, they fixed immediately on Yeosang’s slim figure. 

“So you can imagine how hard it is now, having to stay as far away from him as possible.” 

“Is it-” Hyunjae cut himself off, biting his bottom lip, but Wooyoung didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. 

“The Keres bells,” Wooyoung confirmed. “Whether intentional or not, my soul began to resent their presence, and that resentment taints their magic. Now, if I get too close, we both suffer.” 

Hyunjae sagged slightly, looking heartbroken for the men before them, and Juyeon returned the earlier favor and gently brushed a thumb over his bitten lip. Hyunjae released it with a small sound of surprise, eyes wide at Juyeon’s forwardness, but all Juyeon could focus on were the tiny indents his teeth had left behind. 

“Your grace,” San said pointedly, and Juyeon reluctantly looked away. San was watching them with a knowing smirk on his face, one which Juyeon decided to ignore. 

“That’s the whole sad story,” Wooyoung said with a note of finality. “I wish it was more dramatic, something worthy of the epic bed time tales people tell their children, but in the end, all it was was a stupid mistake of a selfish child.” 

“Not so stupid,” San said thoughtfully. “After all, it did lead me to you.” 

Wooyoung let out a strained, sad chuckle. 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“I’ll be as gross as I want to,” San said, and yanked Wooyoung’s face close so he could place an exaggeratedly wet kiss on his cheek, ignoring Wooyoung’s yelp of protest. 

“If it’s not too much,” Hyunjae asked carefully, “may I ask- how did you two-?” 

Wooyoung turned his head to nudge at San’s jawline with his nose, wrinkling it when San booped it lightly. 

“I didn’t intend on staying this long,” Wooyoung said. “When San brought me back, I thought I’d only be here ‘til Yeosang no longer needed my guidance. Being my anchor, I had San up my ass pretty much constantly.” 

“Literally, after a while.” 

“ _San-!_ ” 

“It started out of pure boredom, if we’re being honest,” San said with a shameless shrug. Wooyoung looked appalled. “We spent so many hours of the day together, and Wooyoung was putting all his energy into either helping Yeosang or avoiding Seonghwa-”

“I was _not avoiding-_ ” 

“And of course, I was the only one in the palace with no common sense at the time, so of course I jumped at the opportunity to nail a ghost.” Wooyoung covered his face with his hands, face bright red. 

“After that, things just kind of fell into place,” San said, prying Wooyoung’s hands away and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “It helped, being able to sense how he felt - I fell more in love with him the more I learned about him and Yeosang’s friendship, the more I learned just how _intensely_ he loved his boys.”

“It might come as a surprise,” Wooyoung said, seizing San’s hand with his own and squeezing it. “But I’m actually a rather private person. Having San there who could read me so easily was overwhelming, at first, but it grew into something I wouldn’t be able to go without.” 

“Once I’d seen how he could love Yeosang - and Seonghwa - part of me started wanting it for myself,” San said, and Wooyoung brought San’s hand up and brushed a kiss over his knuckles. 

"You accept their past together so easily,” Hyunjae said, voice soft and a little wistful. 

San traced a gentle line over Wooyoung's cheekbone, smiling when Wooyoung turned his head to kiss his fingers.

"Wooyoung is very easy to love," he said. "Having experienced that myself, how could I begrudge anyone who has in the past?"

“Seonghwa and I made our peace a long time ago, your grace,” Wooyoung said. “I have my Sannie now, after all. How could I not love the man who gave me a second chance at a sort-of life?"

“Although we will admit,” San said with a sly grin, “making out in front of Seonghwa just to see his horrified facial expression remains a constant delight.” 

Wooyoung snickered. “Remember that time he found us in the kitchens?”

“Mmm,” San pressed another kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek, just under his eye. “And that time in the library.” 

“And the throne room-”

“I thought Hongjoong was going to banish you himself-” 

“Would have been worth it purely for the way Seonghwa screamed.” 

San laughed, burying his face into the curve of Wooyoung’s neck to hide it when Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked up. Juyeon watched them hold each other fondly, their love for each other so unashamed and honest, it made his chest ache. 

Breakfast wrapped up quickly after that, everyone hurrying to repack and ready their horses. A sense of urgency settled once more over the group, the northern border not too far, and Juyeon heaved himself back up into his saddle. He petted the stallion as he settled, rubbing his gloved hand soothingly along his neck, and a small touch of cold against his leg made him turn his head. 

Hyunjae, eyes staring fixedly at Juyeon’s boot, held up his hand. It took Juyeon a moment to realize what he was asking, before hope bloomed in his chest like a new spring flower and he helped Hyunjae up. 

The cool grip on his hips was a welcomed sensation, and he shifted forward obediently when Hyunjae nudged him to free up some more space for himself. 

“Comfortable?” Juyeon asked, and Hyunjae hummed the affirmative. Juyeon kept his body deliberately facing forward, hoping his pleased grin was sufficiently hidden, and nudged his horse into an easy walk as they set off once more. 

  
  
  
  


They crossed the toll bridge with little fanfare, Hongjoong sneering at Juyeon’s small handful of obol coins and marching across without hesitation. The wood creaked beneath his feet, his horse’s hooves clopping loudly through the air, and he turned and crossed his arms expectantly once he reached the other side. 

“On your own time, gentlemen,” he said dryly, and Chan dismounted to lead his horse across, following Hongjoong without incident. 

Juyeon breathed in deeply as he set foot on his own country’s soil, his horse tossing his head and whinnying softly as though he too knew he was home. Hyunjae had a strange look on his face as Juyeon helped him back up, his eyes darting from the bare tree branches to the yellowed grass that lined the road. 

“Is everything okay?” Juyeon asked, heaving himself back up and almost elbowed Hyunjae in the face. Hyunjae jerked back and rolled his eyes at Juyeon’s apology, a hand reaching down and yanking Juyeon’s coat free from where it had bunched up beneath his backside. 

“Fine,” Hyunjae said. “It’s- I’m fine. Just happy to see home again.”

Something in his voice made Juyeon pause and twist around to look at him, but Hyunjae avoided his eyes, choosing instead to inspect a loose thread on his own trousers. 

“Really, your grace,” he said, realizing that Juyeon wasn’t going to let it go. “It’s just- being in the southern kingdom, it was easy to pretend this was all a highly detailed dream visiting me in the afterlife.” 

“Hyunjae-”

“But knowing that I’m home,” Hyunjae continued, “knowing that I’ll see family and friends again, it just all feels a bit- a bit _much_ , suddenly.” 

Juyeon forced himself to turn back around, the familiar twinge in his arms wanting to yank Hyunjae into a hug making him nervous. He highly doubted such a sudden act of affection would be welcomed now. Hyunjae sniffed softly behind him, and the sound made him grit his teeth and bite back the waterfall of words he knew were waiting to burst free. 

“How long ‘til the capital, your grace?” San called out, his and Wooyoung’s horse trotting up beside them. 

“Four days,” Juyeon said, gripping his reins so hard the leather of his gloves creaked. “Give or take. If we limit our stops to four or five a day, we should make good time.” 

San saluted cheerfully and directed his horse down the road after his king. Yeosang and Yunho followed, Yunho humming a bright, sweet melody, and Chan and Hyunjin trailed behind them. 

“Home,” Hyunjae breathed, and Juyeon smiled. 

  
  
  
  


On the first day, Younghoon’s horse stumbled and got his leg stuck in a foxhole, and they spent a frantic hour or so trying to coax the beast out. Hyunjae, magically, had been the one to calm him down, a hand petting his nose as he cooed nonsense and distracted him while Juyeon, Yunho, and Younghoon had hauled him free. 

Early on the morning of the second day, Hyunjin almost burnt a wheat field down after getting into an argument with Younghoon instead of attending to his watch duties. It was only Seonghwa’s timely awakening that had prevented disaster, his shout of alarm waking the rest of them. 

On the third day, Juyeon realized halfway through lunch that they were being followed. 

  
  
  


“You four stay with the horses,” Chan muttered. “Hyunjin and I will go east.”

“Seonghwa, send your crows north,” Hongjoong ordered, strapping his broadsword to his back. “The prince and I will go west.” 

“We will?” Juyeon said, surprised. Younghoon looked unsure. 

“I’ll go south, then?” he said questioningly, and Yunho stepped forward and clapped him reassuringly on the back. 

“You won’t be going alone,” he said, and Younghoon forced out a smile. 

Juyeon turned to Hyunjae, sandwiched between San and Wooyoung, anxiety scrawled all over his face. 

“San and Yeosang will keep you safe,” Juyeon said, slipping off his gloves. “Keep these for me?” 

Hyunjae took them, his hands shaking. 

“I’m not holding onto these forever,” he threatened. “If you don’t come back, I’ll throw them in the nearest gorge.” 

“Oh, no,” Juyeon said in faux horror, hiding a grin. “I’d better return and rescue them before that can happen.” 

“Yes, you’d better,” Hyunjae said firmly, and tucked the gloves into his trouser pocket. 

Juyeon set off after Hongjoong, following him into the copse of grey trees off the side of the road. The king barely looked at him as he caught up, his clever eyes instead flitting around as they walked, looking for anything suspicious. 

“You do remember,” Hongjoong said after a moment, “that your _dead_ fiancé doesn’t really need protecting?” 

Juyeon flushed in embarrassment, but cleared his throat and chose not to answer. He could feel the amusement radiating off of him, and almost hoped they’d be ambushed by a would-be assassin, if only to provide distraction. 

In the end, his wish was granted. Sort of. 

They’d been walking for maybe two minutes when something ahead of them rustled, the distinct sound of muffled footsteps reaching their ears. Juyeon drew his sword, the metal a heavy comfort in his hands, and Hongjoong slowly raised a hand to reach behind him, curling his fingers around the pommel of his broadsword. 

A high-pitched whistle suddenly sounded, and there was a rush of displaced air before Juyeon was yanked sideways, an arrow embedding itself in the frostbitten tree behind him. A curse escaped his lips as he stumbled, Hongjoong releasing him and unbuckling his sword in one swift movement. The blade, massive and shining, sank a good few inches into the loose dirt as he set it down in front of him, the ground beneath it trembling ominously. 

“Show yourself!” he barked. “Today is not a day for dying in the shadows.” 

There was a loud pause, the air itself seeming to shiver before Hongjoong’s power, before a slim, dark figure emerged from between the trees. He wore all black, save for the strips of bandages wrapped around his right wrist and fingers, acting as a hand guard for the bow he carried in his left. The leather vest buttoned tight at his waist covered a lighter shirt of some black, filmy material, exposing a tattoo on his arm of a stylized willow tree that sparked joy in Juyeon’s memory. His hair was covered by a hood, the ends draped over his shoulders like a scarf, and his head was bowed, hiding his face from view. 

“Speak your name before I kill you,” Hongjoong said, his free hand curling into a fist. Their attacker shook his head, but Juyeon stepped forward before Hongjoong could swing. 

“I know that tattoo,” Juyeon said, nodding at the stranger’s arm. “Hyunjae has one just like it on his back.” 

At the sound of his voice, the newcomer looked up and pushed his hood off of his head, revealing a familiar pair of eyes, widened in shock, and dark, messy hair, shot through with blond. 

“Holy shit,” Kevin breathed. “It _is_ you. You’re actually alive.” 

Juyeon laughed and stepped forward, re-sheathing his sword.

“We’ve been gone for maybe two weeks, Kevin, did you all have that little faith in us?” 

Kevin shook his head, swallowing thickly. Somewhere behind them, Hongjoong cleared his throat. 

“Uh,” said the grey king. “About that.” 

“You don’t understand,” Kevin said, and his voice broke, as though he were about to cry. “Most of us- we thought you were lost to the realm of the dead, Juyeon. Only Eric kept insisting that you’d return, that you’d succeed and come and save us.”

A heavy sense of foreboding welled up inside him, and Juyeon took a step closer. Kevin looked as though he were about to collapse, his entire body trembling violently. 

“Kevin,” he said gently, “I don’t understand- save you from _what_? What on earth has happened in the two weeks we’ve been gone?” 

With a shudder that was painful to watch, Kevin sank to his knees, tears slipping free, and Juyeon rushed to catch him before he hit the ground. 

“Juyeon-” Kevin hiccupped. “Your grace - the capital has fallen - your family, they - it's been a long, _long_ eight months.”

  
  



	7. conclave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy tuesday! 
> 
> my health check came back fine, i've got 2 more days of vacation, and there's a oneus comeback tonight, let's gooooo

_The walled city of the middle kingdom has stood as a beacon of peace and equality for centuries, the royal family known in all five kingdoms for their kindness and fair judgement. Visible for miles across the flat plains surrounding it, the capital has never once fallen to invading armies, her walls high and sturdy enough to fend off any attacks, her people safe and cared for inside._

_The palace, a massive estate covered in centuries-old trees and known for its impeccably manicured gardens, is built on the far north end of the city, overlooking a large lake with a small, private island in the center. Her grounds are freely open to visitors during the spring and summer, the residents of the capital invited to spend warm evenings picnicking by the lake, the scent of jasmine filling the air._

_Twice a day, at noon and at midnight, a cannon shot is fired from the western wall of the capital, booming across the city and alarming newcomers every time without fail. The only times the cannons are silenced are when a member of the royal family has died, or when the country is at war._

  
  


Hongjoong, to his credit, had the good graces to look a little guilty. 

"Time passes differently in the southern kingdom," he said with a small shrug. "The dead don't follow the rules of the living, and neither do we." 

“And you didn’t feel the need to tell us this?” Younghoon exclaimed, face pale with shock. 

“In my defense,” Hongjoong said, “I thought you knew already. Chan knew.” 

Juyeon turned on the eastern king, who suddenly seemed very interested in his nails. 

“You couldn’t have mentioned this when we left?” Juyeon snapped, ignoring the warning look Hyunjin sent his way. Fear and anger clashed heavily in his mind, leaving him trembling and not entirely sure which to address first. The terror he felt when he thought about his home, his family, was rapidly being overtaken by a burning need to _break something_. 

“If I had told you,” Chan said slowly, “would you still have gone? Would you have been so willing to travel south and help me clear my name?” 

“I-” Juyeon’s answer evaporated before his eyes, his gaze falling on Hyunjae. He had thrown himself at his brother the instant he’d seen him, and neither appeared to want to let go of the other any time soon. 

Would he have gone? 

If he’d known what he was sacrificing, would he have ventured into the kingdom of the dead regardless? Was seeing Hyunjae again worth so much lost time? 

“Yes,” Juyeon rasped out finally. “Yes, I would have gone. But I would have left better contingencies in place so that a _coup_ couldn’t have happened-” 

“No-one could have seen this coming, your grace,” Kevin said quietly. Juyeon’s shoulders sank as the fire inside him burnt out, and he sat down heavily on one of the stones that lined the road. 

“What happened, Kevin?” he said. “How did you land up here, like this?” 

Kevin shuddered and Hyunjae, his eyes still fixed on his face, took a hand in his own. 

“It’s okay, Kevin,” Hyunjae said gently. “Take as much time as you need.” 

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut, as though preparing himself, and Juyeon tried to ignore the dread that sat heavily in the pit of his stomach.

"Two days after you left,” Kevin began, “Advisor Lee brought a case of high treason before the courts. He claimed that you and your father were conspiring with the eastern king to betray our home, our people-"

"How- that's- _who_ would believe that?"

"He had support, your grace. Several advisors backed him up, and when the high ranking officers protested, Advisor Lee had them executed as your accomplices."

"How did the royal guard allow this?" Younghoon demanded, sitting down by Juyeon’s side. 

"The north, they were waiting. They sent their men into the capital the morning Advisor Lee made his accusations. They held the city and royal guard captive - we could do nothing."

"After the generals, they began executing any man or woman who held a position of power in the palace-"

Kevin's voice died in his throat, his face crumpling with grief, and Hyunjae squeezed his brother tight enough to crack joints.

"Did they-" Juyeon asked hoarsely, "did they get Jacob?"

Kevin swallowed and gave a tiny shake of his head.

"They didn't," he said, guilty relief evident in his eyes, "Jacob was the one who got most of us out of the palace. Your brother - Sangyeon, he- he chose to stay behind, he knew his wife and daughter wouldn't make it out in the country, so he sent Jacob to smuggle as many of us out as he could."

Juyeon's heart seized in his chest and he let his head fall into his hands, eyes burning. 

“He’ll keep them safe,” he croaked out. “Did- did everyone else-?”

Kevin shook his head, bottom lip bleeding from where he’d been chewing on it. 

“We couldn’t- your cousin, Sunwoo, he wasn't in his bedroom when we went to get him. I have no idea if he’s alive, or what state he’s in if he is.” 

Juyeon finally allowed the tears stinging his eyes to fall, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

"Your grace," Kevin said, and the pain in his words made Juyeon look up, terrified at what was coming. Part of him, small and devastated, knew what Kevin was going to say next, but denial was a potent thing.

"Your grace, they killed your father."

An agonizing sob tore its way out of Juyeon’s throat, and a warm pair of hands tugged him against an equally warm body. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into Younghoon’s shoulder, leaning heavily against his best friend as he cried. 

“The king is dead,” Younghoon murmured, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back between his shoulder blades. “Long live the king.”

“Long live the king,” Kevin echoed, and Hyunjae repeated it as well after a moment of hesitation.

“Please,” Juyeon choked out, the words like sawdust in his mouth. “Please, not yet, I can’t, I’m not ready-” 

“You won’t be alone, your grace,” Chan said quietly. “You already have allies to the east, you’ll have our guidance for the first few years of your reign.”

“You can do this, Juyeon,” Younghoon said. “We’ll be with you all the way.” 

Juyeon shuddered, drawing in a deep breath that _hurt_ , before pushing himself away from Younghoon and wiping his eyes. 

“First thing’s first,” he said hoarsely. “We need to retake the capital. I’ll deal with- everything, later.” 

He turned to the two kings, a strange emotion bubbling in his gut as he realized he was now one of them. 

“My lord,” he said, bowing his head to Hongjoong. 

“Your majesty,” he bowed to Chan. 

“Will you help me take my kingdom back?”

Chan smiled, a dangerous, threatening thing, and Hongjoong shrugged, eyes glittering. 

“Your grace,” Chan said, “it would be our pleasure.” 

  
  


Kevin, Hyunjae still plastered to his side, directed them east. 

“We’ve been sheltered by families around the countryside loyal to the crown,” he said, belting his quiver of arrows around his waist. “Those soldiers outside the capital marched to the border as soon as they could, and sent envoys to the eastern kingdom.”

“My men will send assistance,” Chan said firmly. “Especially when they hear that Felix is in danger.” 

“Why were you so close to the capital in the first place?” Hyunjae demanded, poking his brother insistently. “And all alone - what if you’ve been discovered? What if you’d been killed-?”

“I was - delivering something,” Kevin said evasively, fiddling with the wrappings on his wrist. 

“ _Delivering_ -!”

“Hyunjae, please,” Kevin interrupted. “I know you worry for me, but- but it’s been eight months. I’ve had to get by without you for a long time-”

“ _Hyungseo-_ ”

“No,” Kevin said, pushing his brother away from him. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and expect to act like an older brother again.”

Hyunjae’s face fell. 

“Kevin, I-”

“Hyunjae, I _buried you_ ,” Kevin said, and Juyeon looked away as his voice broke. This felt like a conversation far too private to be witnessed, and by the discomfort on everyone’s faces, they thought the same. 

“I buried you, I mourned you, and I had started to move on,” Kevin continued. “When Juyeon said he was going south to talk to you, I didn’t expect he’d bring you back with him.” 

The silence that followed was suffocating. 

“Fine,” Hyunjae said eventually, voice thin and strained. “East it is, then.” 

He heaved himself up onto Juyeon’s horse without assistance this time, his icy hands a vise around Juyeon’s waist. 

“Hyunjae-”

“Don’t,” Hyunjae snapped, but it lacked the venom it needed to be effective. Juyeon pressed his mouth shut regardless, and rested a hand over one of Hyunjae’s. He gave it a small squeeze, for his own comfort almost as much as Hyunjae’s, and was surprised when Hyunjae uncurled his hand and tangled their fingers together. Juyeon wisely chose not to comment, and remained silent when, a few moments later, he felt Hyunjae begin to cry.

  
  


Their march to the eastern border was a slow, arduous process, made all the worse by the simmering sense of urgency that plagued Juyeon’s every waking moment. 

The first time they stopped for a rest and to water the horses, he’d spent the entire time pacing back and forth along the road, until Younghoon had sworn and forced him to sit and choke down some dinner. 

That evening, with everyone resting around a fire, Juyeon approached San, twisting his hands together nervously. San watched him as he made his way closer, his body slumped wearily, face looking thinner than ever. 

“My father-” Juyeon said hesitantly, trying to keep his voice lowered. “Can- could you-?”

San shook his head before Juyeon could finish his request, a regretful sigh escaping him. 

“I’m sorry, your grace,” he said softly. “Even if I thought it would help you, I don’t have the energy to tether another soul to this world.”

His eyes fell upon Wooyoung, who, as though he could feel the weight of San’s gaze, turned and ambled over to the two of them. He wordlessly dropped to his knees and rested his head on San’s lap, closing his eyes when San began to stroke his hair. 

"Every time I bring someone back from the next life and keep them here, it takes years off my own time," San said, a resigned smile on his face. "I've had my Wooyoung for six years, you can imagine how taxing that's been."

Guilt thick in his throat, Juyeon couldn't help but look over to where Hyunjae and Kevin sat in silence. 

"So bringing back Hyunjae…?"

San nodded. "Every moment you get with him takes one away from me."

Juyeon closed his eyes against the wave of regret that surged forward.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered. "This is the cost your king mentioned?"

San punched him solidly in the shoulder, making him yelp and flail for balance. 

"As I told him, so I'm telling you," San snapped. "I agreed to this knowing what it would do to me. I've been selfish with Wooyoung, giving everything just for him. It was time I did something good for someone else for a change." 

“Why have you allowed him to stay, then?” Juyeon said. “We- I got the answers I needed from him, you could have sent him back days ago.” 

San scowled, his fingers tightening in Wooyoung’s hair. 

“Do you think me such a monster, your grace?” he said. “I can see how you look at him, even now - fixing whatever is broken between you two will help his soul rest far easier, when it’s time.” 

Juyeon felt the familiar ache of grief at the reminder. 

“And my soul?” he asked quietly. “How will I be able to let him go?” 

San smiled, sad and understanding. “Losing him twice is just the price you’ll have to pay, your grace. At least this time, you’ll be a little more ready. ” 

Their rest was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a large flock of crows, circling above them in a rush of dark wings. Several dived down one after the other, swooping around Seonghwa and cawing loudly before rejoining their brothers. Almost as quickly as they’d appeared, they dispersed into the approaching night, only a few left behind. 

“Is it Mingi-?” Hongjoong demanded, but Seonghwa shook his head, frowning deeply. 

“It’s not,” he said, “but it’s not good.” 

He turned to Juyeon, a crow balanced on his shoulder. 

“They saw a second army approaching your soldiers,” Seonghwa said. “Over a day ago.” 

Panic flooded Juyeon’s veins as he leapt to his feet, rushing to his horse and freeing his reins. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be in the same state, Hyunjin frantically stamping out the fire, Chan and Yunho shoving everyone’s belongings into whichever bag they could find and readying the horses. 

“How far ‘til the border?” Hongjoong said, accepting Seonghwa’s hand as he climbed into his saddle.

“My crows say just under a day,” Seonghwa said, and Hongjoong leant down to press a kiss to Seonghwa’s knuckles. 

“Let’s make that a little faster, shall we?” Hongjoong said, and Chan shook his head.

“There’s no way the horses can endure that,” he said, settling in his own saddle, but Hongjoong just smiled. 

“We’ll see,” he said simply. The crow on Seonghwa’s shoulder launched itself into the air, soaring over to a nearby tree and settling on a branch before turning to face them. 

“She’ll be our guide,” Seonghwa said, and tightened the fur about his shoulders. Juyeon eyed the bird distrustfully. 

“How sure are you that she knows where she’s going?” Younghoon asked, and Seonghwa turned his horse to stare at him, looking offended. 

“Excuse me-?”

“Younghoon,” Chan said, impatience thick in his voice, “now is not the time to start doubting your allies. Your men need us.” 

“Not sure what difference a handful of people is going to make if we walk in on a massacre,” Younghoon said, and Chan flinched at the harshness of his words. Hongjoong directed his mare between them, looking far too relaxed. 

“You forget,” Hongjoong said airily. “Jongho made me a promise - one that is not easily broken even so far from home. Whatever is waiting for us at the border, you can be assured that we will not be facing it alone.” 

He set off down the road, Seonghwa’s crow gliding in the air ahead of him, and Juyeon felt, for the first time in what felt like an age, a tiny frisson of hope. 

  
  


True to Hongjoong’s word, they made excellent time, coming up on the short cliff that overlooked the main crossing on the eastern border in just under half a day. Juyeon’s horse, body trembling with effort, trotted up to the edge, tossing his head as Juyeon leaned down to pat him affectionately. 

What greeted them over the edge was just about the last thing Juyeon had expected. 

Thousands upon thousands of scarlet tents stretched out before them, the eastern kingdom’s coat of arms emblazoned on every available surface. Interspersed amongst the scarlet was the bright cobalt of Juyeon’s family, their crest displayed proudly on the flagpoles next to Chan’s. 

Chan came up beside him, looking equally as awestruck, pride burning in his eyes. 

“Told you they’d send help,” he said, and a disbelieving huff of laughter escaped Juyeon. 

“That you did, your majesty,” he said weakly. “That you did.” 

  
  


Their arrival was heralded by the sound of trumpets, blasting in waves that rolled across the gathered campsite and sent loud cheers erupting into the morning air. 

Chan dismounted first, spotting a small group awaiting him by the perimeter. With a yell of joy, he slipped off his horse and sprinted the short distance to his men, slamming into Changbin so enthusiastically that they both almost went tumbling down. It was only Minho’s quick reflexes that kept them upright, the lord of the fire fields tutting as he helped the two men regain their footing. Hyunjin was close behind, scooping up a flustered-looking Jeongin and squeezing him tight. 

Chan’s men bowed respectfully as Juyeon approached, and he saw the moment their eyes fell upon Hyunjae, following close behind. 

“You really did it,” Jeongin squeaked, and flushed pink when everyone’s attention fell on him. 

“My lord,” Chan said, an arm still slung across Changbin’s shoulders, “you remember my men, do you not?” 

Hongjoong stepped forward, a small, pleasant smile crossing his face. 

“Of course,” he said, “how could I forget them almost burning down your library the last time we visited?” 

Jeongin, if possible, went an even deeper shade of pink. 

“I apologized for that,” he mumbled, and Hyunjin laughed and pinched his blushing cheek affectionately, ignoring the panicked way he flailed and grabbed his hand with his own gloved ones, inspecting him for injury. 

“You don’t burn that quickly, Innie,” Hyunjin said, but Jeongin produced a small tub of cooling ointment from his coat regardless, shoving Hyunjin’s fingers into the gel and scolding him quietly. 

“Forgive me, your majesty,” Juyeon said, the need to find his own boys growing by the second. “Do any of your men-”

“Juyeon!” 

The sudden cry was the only warning he got before a smaller body _slammed_ into him, he and Eric crashing to the ground in a messy heap. His brother clung to him for dear life, face buried in Juyeon’s chest as he yelled and sobbed and cursed at him. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” came a second voice, and Juyeon spat out a mouthful of Eric’s hair to glare chastisingly at Haknyeon. 

“Language,” he tutted, and Haknyeon’s face split into a wide, ecstatic grin. 

“Coming in!” he announced, and before Juyeon could protest, Haknyeon collapsed on top of Eric, leaving Juyeon buried beneath his two wriggling younger brothers. He allowed himself a moment of pause, lying there and holding them tightly, the sky above him clear and blue and peaceful. A face appeared above his, Hyunjae chewing on his lip as he observed the three of them, and, without thinking, Juyeon held out a hand invitingly. Curious, Hyunjae took it, and began trying to help him stand, but Juyeon instead yanked him down into the pile, laughing as Eric and Haknyeon yelped at the sudden addition of new weight. 

“Whoever you are, you’re crushing my kidneys!” Eric squawked, elbowing Haknyeon as he tried to wiggle his way free. 

“Blame your brother,” Hyunjae protested, and Eric and Haknyeon froze.

“Juyeon,” Eric said slowly, “did you- is that-?”

“I did,” Juyeon said. “It is.” 

Haknyeon and Eric flipped in a heartbeat, crushing Hyunjae beneath them in a flurry of limbs and yells, leaving Juyeon suddenly able to breathe. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and watched, warmth spreading in his body as Hyunjae, poor, flustered Hyunjae, awkwardly patted Eric’s and Haknyeon’s heads as they both shot off question after question. 

“Your grace,” came a soft, sweet voice, and a hand appeared in front of Juyeon’s face. He looked up with a smile, which dropped the moment he saw Jacob’s face, the warmth vanishing as though he’d been drenched in ice cold water. 

A rounded triangle of black leather fastened around his head covered Jacob’s right eye, an angry red scar emerging beneath it, cutting through his eyebrow. Jacob, realizing what had caught Juyeon’s attention, smiled nervously. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks?” 

“It looks like you’ve lost an eye.”

“Oh. Well, then it's exactly as bad as it looks.” 

Kevin sidled up beside him, curling an arm around Jacob’s waist, and helped him drag Juyeon to his feet. 

“Our escape from the palace wasn’t exactly uneventful,” Kevin said, running a fingertip lightly over what was visible of the scar. Jacob, his smile softening to something more blatantly affectionate, caught Kevin’s hand with his own and gently kissed his fingers. 

“An eye was worth getting you all to safety,” he murmured. Juyeon glanced away to give them a moment of privacy, and his eyes fell upon Hyunjae, who, finally freed from Eric and Haknyeon’s grasp, stood watching his brother with an inscrutable expression on his face. 

“Come,” Changbin’s voice came, “you must be tired after such a long journey. We have a tent large enough for everyone to rest and eat in.” 

Eric vaulted himself up onto Juyeon’s back, throwing out a half-hearted apology when Juyeon stumbled and nearly dropped him. 

“Onwards!” he crowed, and then slumped forward so his arms dangled uselessly over Juyeon’s shoulders, forcing him to walk hunched over so that Eric wouldn’t slip. 

  
  
  


The tent was indeed big enough for them all, thick carpets layered on the ground, several daybeds lining the sides, and a massive table in the center, covered in papers. Juyeon dropped Eric once he was certain he wouldn’t injure himself, ignoring his brother’s muffled protest as his backside met the carpet. 

“How did you set up a war command so quickly?” he said, impressed. Minho brushed past him, taking a seat at the table and pouring himself a glass of wine. 

“Experience,” he said bluntly, and Chan pried the wine out of his hands and emptied it straight back into the bottle. 

“Your majesty-!”

“It’s not even noon, Minho. I need to know how my entire army got here without my orders.”

Minho looked at Changbin, who shrugged and stared right back. 

“He needs to know,” Changbin said, and Chan stiffened. 

“Know what?” he said, and Changbin looked away when Chan rounded on him expectantly. Jeongin shifted so that he was hidden behind Hyunjin’s shoulders, and Seungmin sighed and took a seat next to Minho. 

“Your majesty,” he said, “did you not wonder where Jisung is?” 

Chan went very, very still. 

“Home,” he said, but he sounded uncertain. “There’s no reason for him to be out here, he’s not a soldier.” 

Minho shook his head. 

“We never _made_ it home,” he said, and Seungmin slipped a comforting hand onto his shoulder. 

“The men they sent with us, the day you left to go south, they were loyal to the advisors, not to the throne. We were maybe a day out from the border when our _royal_ escorts turned on us.” Minho’s face twisted in pain. “They cut most of us down where we stood, leaving us to bleed out miles from help.”

Next to him, Chan began to shake in barely restrained anger. 

“We were lucky,” Minho continued. “A tradesman carrying silks from our kingdom found us before that could happen. But-” The words died in his throat and he desperately reached for the bottle of wine once more. This time, his king let him pour a glass without complaint. 

“Chan,” he finally choked out, desperation and guilt thick in his voice. “They took Jisung.” 

Chan closed his eyes, breathing harshly through his nose and gritting his teeth, and a small sob escaped Minho's throat.

“We returned home as soon as we were able to travel,” Seungmin said, taking over as Minho’s strength left him. “It took an age to convince the court to let us send an army. Without our king or his consort, they were sure it would start an international incident.”

“Luckily,” Minho said, a sour edge to his words, “our scars proved to be a significant motivator.” 

“Our envoys encountered the eastern army less than a day after we sent them, your grace,” Jacob said. “And our capital knows they’re coming - they’re preparing for a siege, at least until the north can send their full army for support.” 

“This is madness,” Juyeon rasped out, and a cold hand slipped into his own. He squeezed Hyunjae’s fingers tightly. “Did Advisor Lee hate our family that much?” 

“Sometimes, it’s more about power itself, and less about those you have to trample to get it,” Seonghwa said gently. He and Hongjoong settled on one of the daybeds, their own men clustered around them for comfort. Yunho had an uncharacteristically solemn look on his face, which strangely made Juyeon feel even worse. 

“We have scouts in the capital at this very moment,” Kevin said. “They’re meant to return tomorrow - hopefully with information we can use to our benefit.” 

“Until then,” Changbin added, “you all need to rest. This is a lot to take in, and you’ve been travelling for days-”

“He’s trying to say that you smell disgusting,” Minho interrupted, and Changbin winced. 

“There are showers set up on the northern end of the encampment,” Minho gulped down a mouthful of wine, reaching for the bottle once more. 

“Please do us all a favor and use them.”

  
  
  


Juyeon scrubbed at his damp hair with a towel, the scent of citrus and sage filling the air, and rolled his shoulders back in a luxurious stretch as he took in his surroundings. 

The private tent he’d been directed to was relatively small, but just as luxuriously decorated as the war command had been. A thick, blue carpet lay plush under his bare feet, the narrow sleeping pallet covered with an invitingly soft-looking bed roll, and a brazier burning warm on the single-person table. The tent itself was sturdy enough to trap the heat inside, warding off the approaching winter evening, and allowing Juyeon some comfort as he dressed in a light pair of sleep trousers and a shirt that had definitely been stolen from one of Chan’s men. He wrinkled his nose at the lurid red material, but a small noise at the entrance of his tent made him tug it on quickly. 

Hyunjae pushed his way into the tent, the flaps falling shut behind him, a look of absolute dismay on his face. Alarmed, Juyeon stepped forward, reaching out for him.

“What’s happened?” he said, worry flaring bright as Hyunjae brushed past him to collapse heavily onto the bed, settling cross-legged and grabbing a pillow to hug protectively. 

“I went to see Kevin,” he said, eyes wide. “I thought we could- I don’t know, _talk_ , or something-”

The tension in Juyeon’s shoulders eased, and he carefully sat down in front of him.

“Hyunjae,” he murmured. “Whatever he said, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. This is a lot for anyone to adjust to-”

“Oh,” Hyunjae laughed wildly. “He didn’t _say_ anything - he didn’t get the chance to.” 

Juyeon blinked in confusion. 

“I don’t-?”

“I walked in on him and Jacob,” Hyunjae said, and in the hazy light provided by the brazier, Juyeon saw him blush. Understanding hit like a bolt of lightning, followed by a sudden, burning feeling of awkwardness. 

“ _Oh_.” 

Hyunjae covered his face with his hands, his entire body appearing to cringe. 

“Yeah,” he said. “ _Oh_.” 

Trying not to smile at Hyunjae’s suffering, Juyeon patted him lightly on the knee, and Hyunjae shivered. 

“I did not need to see my little brother like that,” he groaned. “He shouldn’t even know what sex _is_ , he’s too young, they’re not _wedded_ -” 

“We’re the same age,” Juyeon pointed out. “And I think wartime allows for some, ah, leniency, when it comes to following traditions.” 

Hyunjae went still, peeking up at him from behind his hands. 

“I thought tradition was important to you, your grace?” 

Something in his tone made Juyeon pause, a curious, teasing edge that he’d heard before, but never directed at _him_. 

“It is,” he said slowly, “but, under certain circumstances, one can- be forgiven, I suppose, for choosing to ignore them. None of us know if we’ll make it through this - two people finding comfort in each other isn’t - shouldn’t be, looked down on. ” 

Hyunjae hummed thoughtfully, the embarrassment on his face quickly fading as he looked at Juyeon, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. It took Juyeon a not inconsiderable amount of effort to keep his eyes off of Hyunjae’s mouth, the sly curve of his lips tempting Juyeon far too much. 

“And would that apply to everyone?” Hyunjae asked, voice several shades deeper, softer. “Even kings?” 

Heat prickled across Juyeon’s skin as his gaze finally dropped down, and he watched as Hyunjae carefully ran his tongue across the edge of his teeth before his mouth curved into a smirk. 

“Hyunjae?”

“Yes, your grace?” 

“May I kiss you?” 

“I’d like it very much if you did, your grace.” 

Juyeon took Hyunjae’s face in his hands and pulled him forward, their mouths meeting in a soft, gentle press. Even touched by the cold air of death, Hyunjae felt perfect against him, his lips parting in a small gasp as Juyeon’s hands on his jaw tightened. Satisfied, Juyeon began to pull away, but a hand grasped his shirt tight. 

“Again,” Hyunjae demanded. “Kiss me properly, damn it.” 

This time, Juyeon poured every inch of desperation he could into the kiss, pressing a thumb into the hinge of Hyunjae’s jaw to coax his mouth open. Hyunjae shuddered against him and let him in, a soft, needy sound escaping him as he tossed the pillow aside and, to Juyeon’s unending delight, rose up onto his knees to crawl into Juyeon’s lap.

His body was a solid, comforting weight, narrow waist fitting perfectly in Juyeon’s hands as he held him close, strong thighs pressed tightly on either side of Juyeon’s hips. His hands didn’t seem to know where they wanted to touch first, one grasping Juyeon’s bicep, the other slipping beneath Juyeon’s shirt to brush lightly over his side. Juyeon shivered at the touch of cool skin, the heat of his own body making the cold feel even sharper. 

In a sudden burst of boldness, Juyeon let one hand drift down from Hyunjae’s waist, reaching behind him instead to push against the small of his back, pressing their bodies closer together. Hyunjae whined and trembled in his arms, blunt fingernails digging into Juyeon’s flesh, and he slowly but deliberately rocked his hips down. 

A groan of pleasure erupted from Juyeon’s chest, and Hyunjae broke the kiss to laugh breathlessly against him. 

“This is a bad idea,” he said, but made no attempt to remove himself from Juyeon’s grasp. “You need to rest, today has been so difficult-”

“Your presence makes it easier,” Juyeon protested, capturing Hyunjae’s mouth with his once more. Hyunjae smiled into the kiss, but broke it far too soon, shaking his head. 

“You are mourning, your grace,” he said regretfully. “You’re not in the right- I shouldn’t- this would be taking advantage, I can’t expect this of you now.” 

He gently removed Juyeon’s hands, and Juyeon let him, the heat that had been growing in the pit of his stomach slowly fizzling out. It left a cold, empty, uncomfortable sensation behind, something that felt an awful lot like rejection. Hyunjae must have seen it on his face, because he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on Juyeon’s cheek, laughing when Juyeon turned his head to brush his lips against his. 

“It’s not that I don’t want it, Juyeon,” Hyunjae murmured. “I just don’t want it like this.” 

He slid off of Juyeon’s lap and leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the pillow. Juyeon caught him before he could replace it at the head of the bed, wrapping a hand around his thin wrist. 

“Will you stay, then?” Juyeon asked hopefully. “We don’t need to do anything, clothes can stay firmly in place. We’ll just sleep.” 

Hyunjae smiled. 

“Since when do ghosts need sleep?” he asked teasingly, but scooted back so he could rest against the bedframe and placed the pillow on his lap. He looked up to meet Juyeon’s eyes and patted the pillow invitingly. 

“Promise you’ll still be here in the morning?” Juyeon asked, feeling a little like a petulant child, but Hyunjae’s smile relaxed into something warm and sincere. 

“I promise,” he said. “Now go the fuck to sleep, your grace.” 

Juyeon lay down obediently, his head resting comfortably on the pillow, and blinked up at Hyunjae. From this angle, he could see a small beauty mark on the underside of his jaw, and unthinkingly raised a hand to brush against it. 

“You called me Juyeon,” he mumbled, exhaustion abruptly hitting like a tidal wave. Through the blur of oncoming sleep, he saw Hyunjae roll his eyes.

“Fine,” Hyunjae huffed. “Go the fuck to sleep, _Juyeon_.” 

Sleep came quickly after that, Juyeon drifting off to the sensation of cool fingers brushing through his hair, an icy night time wind blowing outside. 

  
  
  


Sunrise found them all gathered once more in the command tent, everyone looking as though they hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in decades. The only ones who appeared unfazed by the early hour were Wooyoung and Hyunjae, sitting together and whispering quietly in the morning silence. 

Juyeon had just started to drift off, leaning against Younghoon for support, when a trumpet sounded through the air, several short bursts in a row, and Kevin perked up. 

“They’re back,” he said, and slipped out of Jacob’s lap, wobbling sleepily as he stood. Jacob’s hands went to his hips immediately, making sure he wasn’t about to topple over, and Kevin wrapped a hand around one of his wrists in thanks. 

There was a disturbance from somewhere outside, and Juyeon unthinkingly stepped in front of Hyunjae as the noise grew louder. 

Thankfully, he needn’t have worried, two familiar faces stumbling into the tent, both covered in blood. 

“Oh,” Chanhee said faintly, “you’re alive, then.” 

Younghoon was at his side in an instant, tearing off a strip of material from the bottom of his shirt and wrapping it around Chanhee's bleeding arm.

"What happened?" he demanded, ignoring Chanhee’s hiss of pain. Juyeon saw Chanhee roll his eyes.

"We were discovered, what do you _think_ happened?" Chanhee snipped, but the pinched look of pain on his face eased somewhat as Younghoon scooped him effortlessly up into his arms and lay him down on a padded daybed. 

"I think he sprained an ankle when we fled," Changmin offered helpfully, nursing a split lip of his own. Jacob materialized a damp cloth out of nowhere, pressing it to Changmin's lip with a soft, disapproving noise. 

"I knew it was a bad idea," he muttered. "The two of you should never have gone alone-"

"Any man or woman trained to use a sword is either dead or on a wanted poster," Chanhee said. "It took them four days to find us, Jacob, even after Kevin almost got himself caught checking up on us-” 

“He _what_ -” 

“You would have been spotted before ever setting foot in the city."

Jacob frowned, wiping at the blood at Changmin's chin, but Juyeon could see that he knew Chanhee had a point.

“You and I will talk about that later,” he said to Kevin, who stuck his tongue out childishly in response. 

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” he said dryly. 

Juyeon perched on the edge of the daybed, careful not to disrupt Chanhee’s sprain, and gently wrapped a hand around his uninjured ankle. Chanhee gave him a small smile, patiently allowing Younghoon to fuss and grumble and force some water down his throat. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Juyeon said. “Both of you.” 

Changmin plopped onto the daybed next to him, far less careful than Juyeon had been, and happily wiggled his way against Juyeon’s side when he lifted an inviting arm. In the eight months that had passed, Changmin had filled out a little, his bony shoulders rounded out with muscle, his head no longer at the perfect height to rest in the crook of Juyeon’s neck. Juyeon’s heart broke a little at the physical reminder of just how much time had passed, but Changmin was warm and safe next to him, and for that he was grateful. 

“Was it at least worth it?” Younghoon asked. “Did you learn anything useful?” 

Chanhee nodded, wincing as the movement pulled on a small, scabbed-over cut on his collarbone. 

“We finally found out what they needed your zealot for, majesty” he said, looking at Chan. “Advisor Lee realized very quickly that the fire would not submit to his wishes easily. They figured, what better way to bring a weapon of the gods to heal than with the blood of Ares himself.” 

Chan went an alarming shade of grey, and Minho’s legs gave out beneath him, Seungmin catching him with a yelp of surprise. 

“They _can’t_ -” Chan said, “bleeding a zealot without their consent is heresy-” 

“They don’t care,” Chanhee interrupted. “They want - _need_ \- to have the power of Ares at their command- there’s no other way to control the eternal fire.” 

“He has a name,” Chan said, and Changbin pressed himself comfortingly to his king’s side. 

“Felix,” Changbin said, “is he-?” 

“He’s fine,” Chanhee said. “Or rather, he’s alive. Not sure how fine he’s doing.” 

“Advisor Lee has been using him as an attack dog,” Changmin said softly. “Once they figured out how to control him, they started setting him on the families of those who spoke out in support of the royal family.” 

Chan drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and Hongjoong gripped his shoulder in a pointless attempt at comfort. 

“Felix hates the sight of blood,” Chan whispered. “It makes him dizzy.” 

“He’s been seeing a lot of it recently, your majesty,” Changmin said. “The eternal fire isn’t the only thing the advisors were after.” 

Juyeon tensed, unconsciously squeezing Changmin tighter. 

“Explain,” Chan demanded, and Changmin shrank back at the sudden force in his words. 

"They've been bleeding our temple acolytes dry for days, trying to induce the same zealotry they see in Jisung," Chanhee said with a grimace. "They want the power of a second god under their control - Ares isn't enough for them."

"They've killed eleven, so far,” Changmin added quietly, and a wave of nausea hit Juyeon, strong enough to make the world spin. 

"But we don't- Helios hasn't accepted a zealot in centuries-"

" _Exactly_ ,” Chanhee said. “At this rate, they’ll run out of acolytes before the year is done."

Something seemed to break in Changmin at that, a violent sob tearing through him, and Juyeon held him in alarm as he curled in on himself, tears spilling free. Chanhee looked regretful at his choice of words as he struggled to sit up, reaching for Changmin. 

“I didn’t mean-” 

“No,” Changmin cut him off, “no, you’re right.” 

He wiped his face on Juyeon’s coat, skinny fingers holding onto Juyeon’s sleeve like a small child. 

"We found Sunwoo,” Changmin said. “You know he didn’t escape with the rest of us, the night we fled?”

Juyeon nodded, his heart in his throat. 

“The idiot- he’d snuck out of bed, trying to get to his mother. They had her imprisoned along with yours.” Chanhee clutched at Younghoon’s arm for support, regret thick in his voice. 

“We had to leave him behind.” 

“He must have realized that he was in too much danger, stuck in the capital,” Changmin said, eyes cast down. “He gave himself to Helios in exchange for safety. As a temple acolyte, the advisors shouldn’t have been able to touch him." 

Juyeon’s heart sank at the thought of his little cousin draped in the pristine robes and chains of a temple acolyte, his life and chastity sworn to a god who would never love him back. By the look on Changmin's face, he too knew what taking the vows meant. 

“Before all this,” Changmin said with a wet laugh, “I thought maybe- once we were older, obviously - that, maybe he and I could, you know-” 

“I’m so sorry, Changmin,” Juyeon said softly, and Changmin sniffed and forced out a smile.

“He’s still my best friend,” Changmin said, “even if that’s all he can ever be.”

“We’ll get him out of there,” Juyeon promised. “We won’t let him die for this.” 

“And how do you propose we do that, your grace?” Hongjoong drawled, nursing a cup of wine far too full for how early it was. Juyeon gritted his teeth, gaze flicking from the grey king’s face, to Hyunjae’s, to finally, Chan’s. 

“They’re said to be preparing for a siege,” Juyeon said slowly. 

“Let’s give them one.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> add a little
> 
> ~*~spice~*~


	8. embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought there were only 3 chapters left, but apparently i don't know when to shut up~

_A long time ago, before the young leader of the golden kingdom took back his crown, there lived a boy on the edge of a field of fire. Every day, he would watch the flames burn and the air blur with the heat, and every day his mother would lead him away with whispered warnings and a fearful glance back. As their keeper, she was bound to stay and tend to the fires, her life dedicated to keeping her god’s gift eternal, but her duties grew harder as her son grew older, his curiosity growing with each passing day._

_Stay away from the fires, she would say, they consume everything they touch until there’s nothing left but ash and smoke. But her son did not listen._

_Late one summer, he ventured out into the burning night, something in the flickering shadows of the fields calling his name. When his mother awoke the next morning, she found her only child asleep on the boundary, his skin alight with a god’s power, cursed to never again feel the gentle touch of someone who loved him._

  
  
  
  
  


The sun had just begun to set when Juyeon finally returned to his private tent, eyes drooping shut with exhaustion. The day had been long and arduous, three kings planning a siege all while Juyeon tried to not think about how he was preparing to attack his home, his own people. Chan’s men back at his capital would be receiving word in the next two days to start readying the war machines, the siege on Juyeon’s city looming darkly in his future. 

He drew back the flap to the tent, rolling his shoulders to get the stiffness out, but his dreams of sleep were abruptly abandoned when he saw what was waiting for him. 

Hyunjae, sprawled out on his belly, blinked up at him from the bed, a small smile greeting Juyeon as he drew the tent shut behind him. 

“This is a surprise,” he said slowly, and Hyunjae’s smile grew.

“A good one, I should hope,” he said, a mild undercurrent of nerves in his words. “You took your time.” 

“We were at a blacksmith’s,” Juyeon said. “Have to get armor made.” 

Hyunjae deliberately dragged his gaze down Juyeon’s body, appreciation smoldering in his eyes as a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Juyeon turned away and shrugged off his coat, draping it over the chair with his back to the bed while he tried to sort out exactly what he was feeling. 

The pleasant warmth at Hyunjae seeking him out warred with a cautious reluctance, not wanting to make assumptions and scare him off. The grief of war still weighed heavy at the back of his mind, as did a lingering sense of guilt at having found a spark of joy in such dark times. 

Juyeon hadn’t noticed his body tensing until a pair of hands rested lightly on his shoulders, one slipping up to knead gently at a knot at the base of his neck. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Hyunjae said quietly. “I can leave, if-”

“No!” Juyeon spun around, disrupting Hyunjae’s light massage, and seized his hips desperately before he could flit away. Hyunjae flinched at the sudden movement, but kept his hands up on Juyeon’s shoulders, tangling them together behind Juyeon’s neck. He allowed Juyeon to tug him closer, humming as Juyeon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Hyunjae’s shoulder. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to just _breath_ , the clean scent of a thunderstorm he’d come to associate with the dead filling his nose. Hyunjae’s hips were sharp beneath his palms, and he unthinkingly slid his hands up, slipping them beneath Hyunjae’s shirt to stroke lightly at his skin. Even cold, the soft flesh gave way delightfully under his fingers, and Juyeon had to consciously resist the urge to dig his fingertips in, to see if the dead could bruise. 

“I thought you didn’t want me,” Juyeon murmured after a moment, breaking the serene silence. Hyunjae’s arms tightened around him. 

“I never said that,” he said. “I said I didn’t want it _like this_ \- now is not the best time for us to- to find each other.” 

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Juyeon said around a smile, and he heard Hyunjae snort. 

“I’m trying to be polite,” he said dryly. “But fine. No, Juyeon, now is not the best time for us to fuck-”

Juyeon flushed hot, mildly scandalized at the choice of profanity, but mostly hyper aware of how Hyunjae had tensed and shivered as he’d spoken, his body betraying him even if his words had sounded unaffected. 

“So what’s changed?” he said, and he felt Hyunjae sigh. 

“Nothing,” Hyunjae said. “I’m still not going to sleep with you while you’re mourning your father.” 

Juyeon went still, turning his head so he could blink up at Hyunjae. 

“I didn’t kiss you just because I was sad,” he said, and Hyunjae bit his lip. 

“You must admit, the timing was a little off-” 

“ _Hyunjae_ ,” Juyeon said, straightening up and taking Hyunjae’s face in his hands. “I wanted to kiss you long before my father was- before he died.” 

Hyunjae looked unconvinced, but raised his hands to rest over Juyeon’s, fingers curling around his wrists. Juyeon felt a pout tug at the corners of his mouth, frustrated at himself for not being as eloquent as some of his friends. 

“If that’s what you thought,” he said, “then why did you come back?” 

Hyunjae looked down, his long eyelashes casting the faintest shadows in the dim light. 

“I’m selfish,” he said with a small shrug. “Just because we’re not doing _that_ doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the kissing.” 

Juyeon leaned back down, resting his head once more on Hyunjae’s shoulder as his arms rested lightly over Juyeon’s own.

“What about other things?” Juyeon said, closing his eyes as he turned his head and pressed a light kiss to the side of Hyunjae’s neck. Hyunjae let out a small noise, so naturally Juyeon immediately kissed him again, eager to hear more. 

“Other things might be acceptable,” Hyunjae stuttered out, his words shaky as Juyeon’s kisses traveled up and across his jawline.

Juyeon slowly walked them backwards towards the bed, eager to get the man in front of him horizontal and preferably less clothed. Hyunjae seemed just as enthusiastic, yanking at the buttons of his shirt so aggressively that several popped off, disappearing into the shadows of the tent, never to be seen again. 

Juyeon unwound Hyunjae’s arms from over his shoulders and, careful of the roughly hewn excuse for a bed frame, gently shoved Hyunjae back. He hit the bed roll with a soft noise of surprise, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, his thighs spreading unthinkingly. Juyeon reached up to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt when a strange expression crossed Hyunjae’s face, his eyes drifting out of focus. 

“Something’s wrong,” Hyunjae said, and Juyeon froze. 

“What do you mean?”

“I- I feel weird.” 

Juyeon abandoned his shirt to sit beside him, curling a worried hand around his wrist.

“Hyunjae-” 

Before he could say anything further, Hyunjae disappeared, the coolness of his skin vanishing. Juyeon stared at the newly vacated spot, a bubbling panic beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Somewhere outside, a sudden cry of surprise echoed out into the night, and Juyeon immediately stood and grabbed his coat. 

He managed to shove his feet back into his boots and stumbled frantically outside, only to run smack into Yeosang. The man blinked and held out a steadying hand, the Keres bells at his waist humming curiously. 

“Hyunjae, he-” 

“I know,” Yeosang interrupted, frowning. “Wooyoung’s gone, too. It’s why I came to get you. San fainted.” 

Juyeon immediately set off for the grey king’s area of the encampment, hand firmly around Yeosang’s wrist as he dragged him with. Yeosang went peacefully along, offering quiet directions through the sea of tents. 

Juyeon pushed his way into Hongjoong’s tent, eyes falling first on the king himself, sitting beside a bed, and then the person in it. San looked _awful_ , his skin tinged a sickly grey and damp with fever, body trembling even as Yunho and Seonghwa added blanket after blanket on top of him. Hongjoong’s hand gently brushed sweat-soaked strands of hair away from his forehead, murmuring inaudibly as his other hand buried itself beneath the layers of blankets, searching for something on San’s body Juyeon could not see. 

“Is he-?"

Seonghwa gave his armful of blankets to Yunho and guided Juyeon to a chair, carefully helping him sit and offering him a glass of sweetened water. 

“He’s just sleeping,” Seonghwa said calmly. “His body is under a lot of strain, your grace, and he hasn’t been getting enough rest in recent days.”

“Hyunjae, he vanished-”

“Only temporarily,” Hongjoong said from the bedside, voice strained. “San’s not dead, so their connection hasn’t been broken. The only other thing that could send him back would be Yeosang-” 

“And I wouldn’t,” Yeosang piped up, draped in several thick blankets, having taken over Seonghwa’s role. Seonghwa nudged the glass of water against Juyeon’s hands, and he took it gratefully, the sweetness helping to ease his shaking. 

The king’s tent was silent for a long while, Hongjoong working while Yunho and Yeosang, having helped where they could, retreated back outside. Seonghwa stayed by Juyeon’s side, his relaxed presence a welcome thing as Juyeon finally calmed down. 

“Your grace,” Seonghwa said slowly, “you know that this will happen again, do you not?” 

Juyeon looked down at his hands, a faint tremor still visible. 

“I do,” he said, and had to clear his throat several times. “I knew- I could see that San - that he wasn’t doing well.”

“Death comes to us all, in time,” Seonghwa said, eyes drifting over to his king. “Even to those who call themselves its master. In San’s case, however-”

“He’s dying sooner, isn’t he?” Juyeon said, the words like needles in his mouth. “He told me what bringing Hyunjae back is doing to him.” 

Seonghwa nodded, eyes growing dark. 

"San's _body_ is dying faster than it should be,” Seonghwa said. “We’re all brought into this life with a number of years to live, for our souls to learn and experience what the gods need them to, before we return to their realm having grown and been readied for our next life.” 

Juyeon nodded slowly in understanding, recalling the lessons on the god of death he’d been subjected to years ago. The beliefs of the southern kingdom were slightly different to those who followed Helios, but their understanding of the cyclical nature of existence was something all five kingdoms could agree upon.

“You must understand, then, your grace, that all these years he's sacrificing, means there's wasted potential for his soul,” Seonghwa said, and Juyeon saw something in Hongjoong’s posture shift. 

“San plans to sacrifice that lost time to bring Wooyoung back permanently, when his end is near,” Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed. “We need you to accept that, when your fiancé is lost."

Ice flooded Juyeon’s veins, disbelief followed by an immediate, poisonous sense of injustice. 

"Why would he do that?” Juyeon exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the table. “How is Wooyoung okay with San giving up his life for him-?" 

"San's doing it because he owes me," Seonghwa said, an unexpected bitterness in his words. "And Wooyoung doesn't know. We've told him several times, but his short term memory as a ghost is hazy at best."

“What could he _possibly_ owe you to justify-” 

“That, your grace,” Seonghwa said warningly, “is not something you get to know.” 

“Wooyoung will realize what San’s done,” Juyeon protested. “How do you expect him to live with that-?” 

“The point is that he’ll _live_ ,” Seonghwa snarled, getting to his feet. “I didn’t have to reveal San’s intentions to you, your grace. I did so that you could prepare for the end, and so you wouldn’t take it out on Wooyoung when he remained while your fiancé did not.” 

Juyeon gestured wildly at Hongjoong, who had turned his body so he could watch them out of the corner of his eye. 

“You’re already married,” Juyeon said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “You chose your king, you’d let Wooyoung go-”

“Do not presume you know my intentions, Juyeon,” Seonghwa said, courtly manners abandoned. “You were not there when Wooyoung was taken from m- from us. You do _not_ know how much his death affected those around him.” 

“I _buried_ my fiancé,” Juyeon retorted, aware that his voice was growing louder. “I know damn well what it’s like to lose someone-” 

“Yes,” Seonghwa bit out. “But you didn’t exactly love him, did you?” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong finally said, “take a walk.” 

Seonghwa turned to him, fury blazing in his eyes, but Hongjoong was not looking at him as a husband would. The cold, imperious face of a king stared back. Seonghwa stiffened where he stood, an arm behind his back, and he bowed. . 

“Yes, my lord,” he spat through gritted teeth, and stormed out of the tent. Juyeon sank back in his chair and closed his eyes as the fight drained out of him. 

“I apologize for my consort’s words, your grace,” Hongjoong said. “He was out of line.” 

Juyeon’s eyes stung, and he rubbed at them furiously, determined to not cry in front of another king. 

“It’s not fair,” he said quietly. “Wooyoung got more time than we did, and now Seonghwa gets to keep _both_ the men he loves-” 

“If you think that Wooyoung and Seonghwa have anything left between them,” Hongjoong interrupted, “then you truly don’t understand the nature of my court’s relationships. Seonghwa’s reasons for wanting Wooyoung back may be lost on you, but he’s also not the only one. This isn’t a purely selfish endeavor on his behalf.” 

Juyeon swallowed heavily, thinking of the way Hyunjae felt beneath his hands. 

“And me?” he whispered. “I’m to accept Hyunjae being taken while another man gets his life back?” 

“I’m afraid so, your grace,” Hongjoong said simply. “Life isn’t always fair. In the end, it’s San’s choice to make, and I believe he holds _slightly_ more love for Wooyoung than he does for your fiancé.” 

Juyeon slumped forward to rest his head in his hands. A slight rustle of movement caught his attention, before a warm hand rested comfortingly on his head. The king’s fingers were gentle as they stroked through his hair, a sensation like melting ice dripping down his back following their touch. The pain and grief that had taken hold in Juyeon’s chest loosened somewhat, an alien sense of serenity taking their place. 

“How are you doing that?” he mumbled, thoughts going hazy, and he heard Hongjoong chuckle. 

“I don’t like seeing humanity in pain,” he said. ”You may not be one of mine, but I can still bring you some semblance of peace.” 

“‘t feels weird.” 

“It will settle in a moment,” Hongjoong patted him lightly and withdrew his hand, leaving nothing but a fuzzy sense of calm draped over Juyeon like one of San’s blankets. 

“Is San- will he be okay, tonight?” 

Hongjoong hummed, taking his place once more by San’s bedside. Color had started to return to San’s cheeks, the sweat of fever having dried up. 

“Death may be coming for him,” Hongjoong said, “but it still has a way to travel. Your fiancé should be back by morning.” 

Relief a balm to the ache in Juyeon’s chest, he stood and bowed gratefully to the king. 

“I will leave you, then, my lord,” he said, a little awkwardly, and Hongjoong smirked up at him. 

“You may not feel it,” he said, “but you are a king now. Call me Hongjoong.” 

Juyeon smiled, small but sincere. 

“As long as you call me Juyeon,” he said in reply, and Hongjoong tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

“Try to rest, Juyeon,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do tonight, for San or for your country.” 

Juyeon ducked back out into the night, ignoring the shadow of Seonghwa lurking nearby, and returned to his tent. The spot where Hyunjae had sat was still rumpled, and Juyeon couldn’t bring himself to slip between the blankets, choosing instead to settle on the ground and wait. 

True to Hongjoong’s words, Hyunjae reappeared with the dawn, and sat quietly while Juyeon clung to him like a child, terrified at the thought of letting go.

  
  
  


The eastern kingdom’s war machines arrived just over a week later, ballistae and siege towers manned by hundreds more soldiers to add to their ranks. The encampment was packed up within a day, Juyeon left stunned at the efficiency of the two armies, and they set out with the sunrise. 

The march to the capital was slow-going, the three kings and their men at the front leading the thousands at their command. With Chan on his left, Hongjoong on his right, and Hyunjae pressed up tight behind him, Juyeon found it easy to force down the uncertainty he felt. 

The first sign of the capital took the form of a falcon, soaring high above their heads, barely visible against the blinding sun. Jacob steered his horse to Juyeon’s side, Kevin’s close behind him. 

“One of yours?” Juyeon asked, squinting against the sunlight, and Jacob nodded. 

“We’ll keep an eye on it, but if it dives-” 

“If it dives, you shoot it down,” Chan said to Kevin, who nodded solemnly, his new bow at his back. 

As expected, the bird circled lower as the afternoon wore on. With a sudden screech, it swooped down, aiming at Chan, who automatically held up his arm to protect his face. The falcon’s claws tore off a piece of his bright scarlet jacket, launching itself back into the air, but Kevin was too quick. 

It hit the ground with a soft _flump_ , an arrow pierced through its body, and Jacob dismounted quickly, tugging the fabric free. He offered it to Chan, who narrowed his eyes. 

“It was aiming for the cufflinks,” Chan said, stuffing the material into his pocket. “If it had succeeded, the capital would have known that I was alive.” 

“And therefore you more than likely are, too,” Jacob added, nodding at Juyeon. “As far as the advisors are aware, you died in the south. They think this army is being led by nothing more than a group of rebels and some impotent eastern courtiers.” 

Changmin and Chanhee exchanged a high-five, looking pleased at the description, and Younghoon, his horse lingering nearby, rolled his eyes. 

“They’ll send more scouts,” Kevin said, and shrank back slightly when all three kings turned to him. “I’m just saying - they want to know how far out we are, how much time they have to prepare.” 

“We’ll deal with those when the time comes,” Juyeon said. “Let’s not get too eager for bloodshed so early on.” 

“We’re at war, your grace,” Jacob said gently, cradling the dead bird in his arms. “Bloodshed is part of it.” 

Jacob had spent several years training the palace guard’s falcons, raising each of them by hand and often found covered in scratches, a proud smile on his face every time as he reported on his birds. Juyeon watched as he silently dug a small grave, sadness making him curl in on himself even as Kevin dismounted and stood comfortingly at his side. 

“Give the orders to set up camp for the night,” Juyeon said, nodding to Younghoon. “The men need rest and food.” 

Chan looked displeased by the idea of having to stop, but gave Hyunjin the same order, catching Juyeon’s eye as he swung down from his horse. 

“We can’t take too much time,” Chan said, helping Jeongin down. “Every day we delay puts my zealot’s life at risk.” 

“I know,” Juyeon said, catching Hyunjae as he slipped down. “But we can’t take on the walled city if all our soldiers are exhausted.” 

Chan scowled but allowed his men to usher him away, a group of soldiers already setting up the king’s tent and digging a fire pit. Juyeon looked over to where Jacob had finished burying his beloved bird, and answered his grateful smile with a small one of his own. Kevin was pressed up close behind him, his arms wrapped around Jacob’s waist, eyes closed as he buried his face in Jacob’s hair, and Juyeon turned away to allow them their moment of grieving. 

Early morning brought another set of problems.

Juyeon was awoken by the sound of yelling, Hyunjae tense beneath him. He’d fallen asleep draped over Hyunjae’s chest, his hands threaded through Juyeon’s hair, and it took Juyeon to orient himself. 

“Who is that?” he said, yawning halfway through. 

“Wooyoung and Seonghwa,” Hyunjae said. “They’ve been at it for a while.” 

Juyeon groaned and yanked the blankets back over his head. 

“What are they fighting about so early in the day?” 

Hyunjae hummed uncertainly, a pleasant rumble in his chest that Juyeon felt against his cheek.

“No idea,” he said. “They keep interrupting each other before I can figure it out.” 

Juyeon huffed an irritated sigh and threw the blankets off, reluctantly sitting up. Hyunjae made a very comfortable pillow, and he was mildly annoyed at his rest being so rudely interrupted. 

He stuck his head out of his tent, ready to complain, only to narrowly miss being beheaded as Wooyoung stormed past, fury leaking out of every pore in his body. He muttered a half-hearted apology, absently patting Juyeon on the crown of his head like he would an obedient dog, and disappeared into San’s tent. Several curious faces peered back at Juyeon, his brothers whispering frantically to each other from the tent next to his. Seonghwa was nowhere to be seen, leaving Juyeon to blink at his lieutenant in confusion. 

“What-?” 

Younghoon shook his head, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

“I’m not sure either,” he said. “But seeing as you’re awake, can we talk?” 

Chanhee, dressed in a shirt several sizes too big for him, trailed after Younghoon as he stepped inside Juyeon’s tent, his arms crossed and a look of displeasure on his face. He settled next to Hyunjae, wrapping himself in one of Juyeon’s blankets and scowling at the two of them. Juyeon glanced worriedly at him, raising an eyebrow in question when Younghoon nervously gestured for him to sit on the tent’s only chair. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yes,” Chanhee said before Younghoon could speak. “He’s just being an idiot.” 

Younghoon threw a wounded look his way, and Juyeon saw Hyunjae bite back a smile. 

“There’s a proper way of doing things,” Younghoon said. “Just because we’re at _war_ doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything my parents taught me.” 

“I didn’t think you had,” Chanhee said, his scowl softening. “But you’re a fool if you think he’ll deny you.” 

Mystified, Juyeon watched as Younghoon sank down on one knee, bowing his head. 

“Juyeon,” he said. “I had intended to ask this of your father when we returned, but-” 

He cut himself off, and Juyeon swallowed down the familiar pang of sorrow he felt at the mention of the king. 

“Whatever it is, Younghoon, you know I’d never say no to you.” 

Younghoon looked up and smiled weakly. 

“I know,” he said. “But some traditions are still important, even if we’re living through distinctly untraditional times.” 

Juyeon heard Chanhee groan, and saw him duck his head, trying to hide the fondness so clear on his face. 

“Your grace,” Younghoon said. “I’d like your blessing for marriage, if possible.” 

Unable to hold back his smile, Juyeon looked over to Chanhee, who flushed a delicate shade of pink. 

“Have you accepted his proposal?” 

Chanhee nodded, eyes sparkling. “I have, your grace.” 

“What about the dowry?” Juyeon asked Younghoon teasingly, joy expanding in his chest like a balloon. “Last I checked, you were flat broke.”

Chanhee snorted. 

“I have enough money for the both of us, thank you.” 

“Well, then,” Juyeon said, leaning forward and tugging Younghoon to his feet. “I see no reason to withhold my blessing.” 

“Congratulations,” Hyunjae piped up, and Younghoon, a wild laugh escaping him, yanked Juyeon into a bone-crushing hug. 

Their celebration was cut short by a sudden cry of horror, originating from the edge of the camp, and Juyeon and Younghoon immediately tore themselves away from each other, Juyeon reaching for his sword. 

“Stay here,” Younghoon said to Chanhee and Hyunjae, who gave him identical looks of disdain and got to their feet. Hyunjae grabbed Juyeon before he could sprint out the tent and yanked his coat on like an impatient father dressing his child, shoving Juyeon’s arms through the sleeves while muttering under his breath.

“I would have been fine,” Juyeon protested, and Hyunjae stared back stonily. 

“It is mid-winter and you are in sleep clothes,” he said. “Forgive me for not wanting you to die of exposure.” 

A second cry echoed out, and Hyunjae released him, Juyeon sprinting after Younghoon as they sought out the source of the panic. 

The sickening smell of burning flesh greeted them as they approached the area where Chan had set up camp, terrified soldiers lining the pathway, some still dressed in their sleep clothes and shivering in the morning air. 

“What’s happened?” Younghoon barked, spotting one of his men nearby, but the man mutely shook his head, face pale. 

“A fire demon,” he stuttered, and Juyeon immediately paused and turned to Hyunjae. 

“You don’t have to come,” he said, but Hyunjae swallowed and forced out a smile. 

“Not like trauma can kill me _more_ ,” he said faintly. 

The sight that greeted them at the edge of the encampment was one of sheer chaos, Chan yelling furiously at a group of overnight watchmen, each man on their knees before their king, heads bowed in shame. Hyunjin, a massive, blistering burn on one arm, was held captive by Changbin and Minho, trying to fight their grasp as he reached out for something unknown. Seungmin pushed past Juyeon with a brief apology, arms laden with bandages and ointments, and made his way to Hyunjin. 

In the middle of all the mess lay a still-smoldering corpse, the man’s face charred beyond recognition, flesh melting off bone as Juyeon watched and tried to swallow back the bile that surged in his throat. Several feet away sat Jeongin, curled into a tight ball as he rocked back and forth. For once, he was not covered from head to toe, miles of bare skin exposed to the elements, allowing Juyeon to see the full extent of his curse. 

Veins of burning red gold crawled across his skin, shifting and shimmering in the milky light of early morning like rivers of lava on his flesh. His exposed arms and legs darkened the further down they went, ending in hands and feet the color of ash. The grass beneath him was slowly starting to smolder, wisps of smoke rising up into the air around him. 

With a furious yell, Hyunjin tore himself from Changbin and Minho’s grasp and stumbled over to him, dropping to his knees and carefully placing a hand on the thin sleep shirt that Jeongin wore. Jeongin jerked at the touch, scrambling back away from Hyunjin’s outstretched fingers. 

“Let him be, Hyunjin,” Chan ordered, turning his back on the watchmen, and Juyeon saw Hyunjin’s shoulders sink in defeat. 

“What happened here?” Juyeon asked, carefully making his way to Chan, giving the dead man a wide berth. As he passed him, he saw the gleam of the northern coat of arms, the metal still shining amidst the blackened material of his uniform. 

“A scout from the capital,” Chan said, a sneer of disgust on his face. “He managed to sneak past because _someone_ wasn’t at their post.” 

Juyeon glanced at the watchmen, one of whom chose that moment to glance up. The man looked terrified, and immediately ducked his head again when he caught Juyeon’s eye. 

“Unfortunately for him, the first tent he came upon was Jeongin’s. He saw Hyunjin’s swords and assumed he’d found the _famous_ eastern hurricane asleep-” 

“Coward,” Hyunjin spat, and Chan grunted in agreement. 

“Some idle dream of glory must have gripped him, because he tried to kill Jeongin while he slept. Needless to say, he failed somewhat miserably.” 

“And Hyunjin?” Juyeon asked, nodding at the bubbling skin of Hyunjin’s arm. 

“Hyunjin came when he heard Jeongin scream,” Chan said, his venomous sneer softening ever so slightly. “He was burned by mistake, trying to calm him down.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” came a small voice, and Hyunjin made a soft, hurt sound and reached for Jeongin once more. 

“We know, Innie,” Hyunjin said, his voice low and soothing. “He deserved it, he was going to kill you-” 

“No-one deserves to die like _that_ ,” Jeongin interrupted, lifting his head to stare at the man’s remains. Privately, Juyeon couldn’t help but agree, the horrific end the man had met sending his stomach into knots. 

“Did he die quickly?” 

Juyeon’s attention jerked to Hyunjae, who stood pressed between Younghoon and Chanhee, both with comforting arms around him. His question made Hyunjin look over, the tension leaking out of his body as he nodded. 

“Jeongin’s fire burns at a temperature that sends most people into shock if they hold on too long,” he said quietly. “Chances are, the man would have been unconscious long before he could start feeling the pain.” 

Hyunjae’s face crumpled and Chanhee yanked his head down, allowing him to hide in the crook of Chanhee’s shoulder as Younghoon threw Juyeon an expectant look. 

“We can take care of this, Juyeon,” Chan said. “You have other things to worry about.” 

“If you’re sure-?” Juyeon said hesitantly, already edging back towards Hyunjae. Chan shooed him away, his attention already back on his men, and Juyeon briskly made his way over and relieved Chanhee of his charge. Hyunjae clung to Juyeon, eyes squeezed shut, and Juyeon scooped him up into his arms and set off back to his tent. 

“Sorry,” Hyunjae mumbled into his shoulder. 

“For what?” Juyeon said as he carefully maneuvered around a tangle of tent ropes. Hyunjae shrugged. 

“I’m not handling this whole being at war thing very well, am I?” 

“I’d be worried if you were,” Juyeon said, ducking into his tent and setting Hyunjae down on the bed. “These aren’t exactly the easiest times, and after everything you’ve been through, you’re already so- uh-” 

“If you say _delicate_ I will kill you with your own sword.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

  
  
  


A day out from the capital, Seonghwa’s crows spotted a man on horseback, approaching the armies from the west. 

“He’s wearing your family colors,” Seonghwa said, a veneer of forced politeness on his face as he gave Juyeon the report. “More than likely an emissary, sent to begin negotiations of peace.” 

Chan let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Bold of them to assume we’d agree,” he said, but Hongjoong turned to Juyeon, a faint frown creasing his brow. 

“Do you have a man you trust to represent you?” he asked. “It would be wise to keep you and Chan out of sight..” 

Juyeon glanced at Kevin, who shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” he said. ‘Might be fun to laugh in his face.” 

“Please don’t.”

“Not even a small chuckle?” 

“Kevin-”

“ _Fine_.” 

Juyeon, Hyunjae, and Chan were given hoods and long, ill-fitting cloaks to hide their faces and royal seals, Hyunjin and the southern contingent moving to stand near Jeongin behind the vanguard. Younghoon and Chanhee switched places atop Younghoon’s horse, Younghoon shrinking down behind his fiancé’s back, Chanhee looking content in his arms. 

“No-one knows who I am,” Younghoon grumbled, but Chanhee reached back to run a placating hand through his hair. 

“Let’s not risk it,” he said, and laughed when Younghoon muttered something into his ear. 

Their march continued, eyes searching the horizon for any sign of a new arrival. He appeared within the hour, first a shapeless shadow in the distance, sharpening into a broad-shouldered man around forty. He approached them slowly, looking unimpressed by the sight of several thousand soldiers before him. Kevin straightened his shoulders and set out to meet him, Jacob close behind. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Juyeon sent a look of alarm Chanhee’s way, but there was no time to investigate, the emissary stopping several feet away and offering a poor excuse for a bow from his saddle. 

“Afternoon,” Kevin said, his horse circling the man’s. “May we help you?” 

Juyeon didn’t recognize him, and it became obvious why when he opened his mouth, the northern accent shaping his words. 

“Advisor Lee Minjun sends his regards-”

“I’m sure he does.” 

“And wishes to know exactly what it is you aim to accomplish.” 

Kevin tilted his head, pretending to give it some thought. 

“Well,” he said, “for a start, we’d like his head on a pike.” 

Juyeon saw Jacob grimace, but Chan let out a muffled snort, ducking his head when the emissary glanced over. 

“None of us want war, margrave,” he said, and Kevin raised an eyebrow. 

“Since when do northerners recognize minor aristocrats?” he asked, hand drifting down to rest on his bow, hanging off his saddle. 

“I was at your brother’s funeral,” the emissary said, and Kevin’s posture immediately changed. Behind him, Hyunjae shifted forward, pressing his body against Juyeon’s back as he nervously tightened his arms around his waist. 

“Tell Advisor Lee that we are not here for peace,” Kevin spat, his horse trotting back to Jacob’s side. “He started this when he took my brother from me - when he looked me in the eye at Hyunjae’s funeral and told me how _sorry_ he was-” 

He cut himself off, blinking rapidly as he looked urgently to Jacob for help. 

“You can return to the capital, sir,” Jacob said. “We have no offerings of peace to pass along. I’m afraid your journey was a waste.” 

The emissary scowled, gripping the reins of his horse tightly. He tugged them sharply, his horse beginning to turn, but something in his face changed as his eyes scanned the men before him. 

“Not _such_ a waste,” he said, delighted triumph in his voice, and Juyeon, confused, followed his gaze. Chanhee glared back at the man, Younghoon’s grip on his hips rumpling the material of his jacket. 

“Can I help you?” 

The emissary laughed, shaking his head. 

“No, sir,” he said, turning from them. “I’m glad the south spat your lover back out, is all.” 

Before any of them could react, he dug his heels into his horse’s sides, setting off back west at a significantly faster speed than he had arrived. Once he was far enough out, Juyeon tugged down his hood, rounding on Chanhee expectantly. 

“What the hell was that?” he demanded. “How did he know-?” 

“As he said,” Chanhee said, sinking into Younghoon’s grasp, “he was at the funeral. He propositioned me shortly after the ceremony-”

“He what,” Younghoon said flatly, but was ignored. 

“And I was forced to point out that I was already being courted.” 

Chan and Hongjoong appeared, both looking at Juyeon expectantly, and Juyeon wearily rubbed a hand over his face. 

“He knows we’re alive,” he said. “He recognized Younghoon.” 

“ _Seriously_?” 

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Chan said, looking supremely unconcerned. “At least now they know who they’re dealing with.” 

Hongjoong shot Chan a withering glare, which was pointedly ignored, but Juyeon felt a shadow of concern begin to grow, his remaining family held hostage at the forefront of his worries. 

Regretfully, his anxiety turned out to be justified. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Seonghwa’s crows reappeared, bringing news of a second visitor. 

“Two of them, this time,” Seonghwa said, stroking the bird’s beak lightly. “One in the robes of your temple’s acolytes.” 

Juyeon felt the blood drain from his face, seeking out Changmin in the dim light. He had gone stark white, his hands visibly trembling, and Haknyeon, perched behind him, squeezed him an attempt to offer some comfort. 

“At least we’ll be able to see if he’s okay,” Juyeon said, and Changmin made an awful, painful sound. 

This time, Juyeon set out to greet the two men, accompanied by Changmin and his brothers, Younghoon and Hyunjin on either side of them. They emerged from the deepening shadows, one clearly a northerner, dressed in his country’s uniform. The other, shorter and slimmer, wore the sheer ivory linen robes of Helios’ acolytes over a pair of close-fitting trousers, thin gold chains soldered around his wrists and throat and knotted around his chest in a complicated pattern. The overwhelming relief Juyeon felt at the sight of him clashed with the wave of regret at having failed to protect him.

His face lit up as he saw Juyeon, smile widening further when he saw Changmin behind him, and he slipped from his horse in a haphazard flail of limbs, ignoring the warning from his companion. 

Juyeon dismounted immediately, opening his arms, and caught Sunwoo as he slammed into him, the comforting scent of jasmine filling his nose for the first time in what felt like an age.   
  



	9. transgression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday!
> 
> i'm afraid the character death and violence tags apply to this chapter. please keep that in mind before hunting me down~ 
> 
> if it makes you feel any better, a happy ending (mostly) is still in the works? there's one more chapter plus an epilogue planned out so far...... so that *probably* won't change :D

_zealot (n)_ \- _a person with a particularly strong connection to their chosen god. This can manifest in many different ways, from their lives simply appearing significantly blessed, to outright divine possession. Zealotry is considered a dangerous, outdated practice by many, as human beings were never meant to carry the power of a god within them._

_The blood of a zealot is a particularly potent thing, able to imbue a hitherto unknown strength in those that imbibe it, or infuse weapons with divine power. Thus, it must always be offered voluntarily. To bleed a zealot against their will is to go against the will of the gods._

  
  
  
  
“You’re joking.” 

“Surely our mere presence suggests otherwise.” 

Juyeon stared at the man, hatred seething in his chest, the burning desire to kill him where he stood overwhelming. At his side, Younghoon’s grip on his sword tightened so hard, the leather of his gloves creaked. 

“That’s not going to happen,” he spat. “Advisor Lee has no claim to the throne-”

“Something the people of your country are well aware of,” interrupted the emissary, an infuriatingly smug man of low nobility named Hangyeol. “In order to make the transition of power as smooth as possible, Advisor Lee suggests-” 

“There isn’t going to be a _transition of power_ -” Eric interrupted, and Hangyeol scowled at him, clearly unimpressed at having been interrupted. “Juyeon is the rightful king, why would he allow a usurper to take the throne?” 

“To keep his family and his people safe,” Hangyeol said with a sneer. “If he doesn’t agree to bless Lee Minjun’s ascension to the throne-”

“He doesn’t,” Juyeon cut him off sharply, and Hangyeol pursed his lips in irritation. 

“Then you condemn your people to a war.” 

“My _people_ ,” Juyeon said, allowing his anger to spill over into his voice, “were condemned the minute Minjun murdered my fiancé and tried to frame me and my father as tyrants. You do not get to place the blame for this solely upon me, Hangyeol.” 

Behind the emissary, Sunwoo stood silent and wide-eyed, his gaze flickering between them uncertainly. 

“You would really allow the eternal fire to claim the lives of two whole armies?” Hangyeol said, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t know what it’s capable of, Juyeon-”

“Your grace,” Haknyeon corrected him, grinning when Hangyeol glared at him. 

“ _Your grace_ ,” Hangyeol ground out, as though speaking the words physically pained him, “Lee Minjun has the power of a god at his feet, you would be wise to-”

“Not for much longer, he doesn’t,” Sunwoo interrupted suddenly, and jerked back when Hangyeol rounded on him threateningly. Hyunjin and Younghoon seized him before he could draw his sword. 

“What do you mean?” Juyeon asked, and Sunwoo swallowed heavily. 

“The eastern king’s zealot- Jisung-”

“You have not been given permission to speak,” Hangyeol snarled, and grunted when Younghoon sank an elbow into his stomach, successfully cutting off anything else he might have to say.

“What about him?” Changmin said, and Sunwoo glanced down, his hands knotting the sleeves of his robes nervously. 

“I heard this morning,” he said, looking up anxiously at Hangyeol through his messy hair. “Jisung’s dying. They’ve taken too much blood, people are saying that his god has abandoned him-” 

Hangyeol broke free with a furious yell, launching himself at Sunwoo’s throat, hands outstretched. Sunwoo yelped and staggered back, but Changmin, having placed himself between them, was too fast. 

“Changmin, don’t-!”

The blade of the sword glinted wetly in the cool light of dusk, Hangyeol’s body jerking limply as he died. Changmin, face pale and body trembling, allowed the sword to drop to the ground. 

“Shit,” Hyunjin breathed, and Younghoon echoed him. 

“I, I didn’t-” 

Changmin’s trembling voice died as he went from pale to an alarming shade of green, and Sunwoo had just enough presence of mind left to scuttle out of the way as he hunched over and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass. Juyeon grimaced at the sound, gathering his shaking cousin in his arms, and eyed the dead emissary with a frown. 

“This is a problem,” Younghoon sighed. 

“At least you’re safe, now,” Juyeon said into Sunwoo’s hair, but Sunwoo shook his head, pressing his eyes closed as he hugged him. 

“I have to go back,” he said, and Changmin groaned in protest from his position on the ground. 

“Sunwoo-” Juyeon said, but Sunwoo looked up, blinking furiously as his eyes shone. 

“Juyeon, they still have my mother,” he said. “And yours. And Sangyeon and _his_ family. I was only sent with this evening as insurance.”

“We just got you back,” Changmin said, wiping his mouth weakly. “You can’t expect us to let you go again.” 

“You have to,” Sunwoo said, and squeaked when Juyeon squeezed him tight. 

“If I don’t return, they said that- that Sangyeon would be the first to pay.” 

Changmin got to his feet, still looking a little unsteady, and Sunwoo wriggled out of Juyeon’s hold. Juyeon let him go, allowing him and Changmin a moment of privacy as he turned to the rest. 

“You can’t let him go back,” Eric said, his youthful face twisted in fear. “What if they hurt him when he returns alone, what if-”

“If he doesn’t, Sangyeon will die,” Juyeon said, and turned to Younghoon, for advice, for guidance, for _anything_ to let him know what to do. Younghoon looked just lost as he felt, looking between him and the two boys deep in conversation behind him. 

“He’s so young, Juyeon,” Younghoon said quietly. “It’s so unfair to expect this of him.” 

“We’re all too young for this,” Juyeon said with a laugh, agonizing as it tore itself from his throat. “This time a year ago, who of us thought we’d be at war instead of a wedding?” 

A familiar nudge at his shoulder made him lift his arm unthinkingly, and Haknyeon pressed himself to his brother’s side, the tightness of his arms around Juyeon’s waist offering a modicum of comfort. 

“Dad would know what to do,” Haknyeon said, and grief made Juyeon’s heart clenched painfully.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said, but Haknyeon shook his head emphatically. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “I’m happy you weren’t there to see it. You don’t need that image of him being your last, not when you need to lead his army.” 

“Haknyeon-” 

“He taught you to be a king, Juyeon,” Haknyeon said, faith blazing in his eyes as he peered up at him. “Not me, or Eric, or Sangyeon, even before he officially abdicated. _You_. He knew you were capable of it, and do I.” 

An unnamed emotion bubbled up, filling Juyeon’s throat as he tried to speak, and Haknyeon gave him a small but fierce smile in return. He looked at Younghoon, whose face mirrored the apparently unshakable belief Haknyeon had in him. 

“Coronation or not, Juyeon,” Younghoon said. “You are our king, now. Whatever decision you make, you’ll have our support.” 

Sunwoo and Changmin echoed his sentiment, their hands fastened together, and it took Juyeon a few attempts before he found his words.

“Sunwoo,” he said, and was proud of the way his voice remained stable. “I’m sorry to ask this of you.” 

Sunwoo grinned, a sad, resigned thing. 

“The temple should still offer me some protection,” he said. “Not sure for how long, though, so. please try and end this war sooner rather than later. I’d like to see my twenty-first birthday, if that’s alright.” 

“We’ll do our best,” Juyeon said, Haknyeon’s presence at his side the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the ground in despair. 

  
  


Returning to the encampment felt like defeat, Juyeon’s hands still caked in dirt and blood from burying Hangyeol. Hyunjin disappeared to report to his king, saluting Juyeon as he vanished into the forest of tents. Eric and Haknyeon went off in search of food, while Younghoon, with a nod to Juyeon, gently escorted a still trembling Changmin off to his and Chanhee’s tent, a supportive hand between Changmin’s shoulder blades. 

Juyeon took a detour to wash his hands, feeling the eyes of his men on his back as he scrubbed the blood out from under his fingernails. When he turned, they all looked away, suddenly finding other things to be interested in, and he held back a sigh. 

Stepping into his tent, the heaviness in his shoulders seemed to lighten, Hyunjae waiting for him on his bed, an aching look of understanding on his face. 

“We couldn’t get him back,” Juyeon whispered, and Hyunjae opened his arms expectantly. Juyeon toed off his boots and shrugged off his coat, suddenly desperate to be in his fiancé’s embrace, and Hyunjae squeaked as he launched himself at him, sending them both toppling backwards onto the bedroll. 

“Changmin will be okay,” Hyunjae murmured, stroking Juyeon’s hair away from his face. Juyeon looked up in surprise, and Hyunjae managed a one-shouldered shrug. 

“Seonghwa saw everything,” he said, and Juyeon rolled his eyes. 

“Of course he did,” he grumbled, and Hyunjae frowned. 

“Whatever happened between the two of you needs to be worked out,” he said. “You have a war to fight, Juyeon, you can’t afford to piss off your allies.” 

“I didn’t,” Juyeon protested, burying his face against Hyunjae’s chest. “We just- we had a small disagreement. Hongjoong was there, he knows it wasn’t my fault.” 

“Are you going to tell me what it was about?”

“No.”

“Juyeon-” 

“It’s not something you have to worry about, Jae,” Juyeon said, and felt the arms around him tighten at the nickname. He opened one eye to check on Hyunjae’s reaction, and was pleased to see a small, fond smile gracing his lips. Hyunjae caught him looking, and rearranged his face into an attempt at disapproval, the corners of his mouth betraying him. 

“Being cute isn’t going to change the subject,” Hyunjae said, and Juyeon stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Is it about Wooyoung?” 

Juyeon went still, and felt Hyunjae sigh underneath him. 

“You know?” Juyeon said hoarsely. 

“Wooyoung told me what San plans to do, yes.” 

“ _Wooyoung_ knows?” 

Hyunjae prodded his cheek sharply, making him look up. 

“Wooyoung remembers a lot more than he lets on,” Hyunjae said. “He pretends otherwise to keep San happy, but he knows their time together is running out.” 

Juyeon stared at him, heart in his throat. 

“San was wrong?” 

Hyunjae cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. 

“Wrong about what?” 

Juyeon caught one of Hyunjae’s hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around Hyunjae’s narrow wrist and bringing it to his own chest, where his heart pounded in his chest. 

“San told me once,” Juyeon said shakily, “that your memories you made here, being back with us, with _me_ , that they wouldn’t last, wouldn’t follow you back to the afterlife.”

“They’d fucking better-” 

“He also- also said, that you might not be able to, to feel things, about me-”

Hyunjae abruptly sat up, forcing Juyeon to sit up as well, his fingers digging into Juyeon’s shirt. 

“Explain,” he demanded. 

“San warned me, before he brought you back-” Juyeon said, “because you died so violently, that you’d, you’d return stuck thinking I hated you. And that I wouldn’t be able to change that.” 

Hyunjae blinked, lips parted distractingly, and a faint dusting of pink broke out across his cheekbones. 

“Well,” he said slowly, “I can confirm that he’s definitely wrong about that.” 

Juyeon’s hand tightened around Hyunjae’s wrist. 

“Yeah?” 

Hyunjae’s blush deepened and he looked away, but Juyeon caught him with his other hand, curving his fingers gently around his chin and forcing him to look back. 

“I’m not saying I’m hopelessly in love with you or anything,” Hyunjae said, eyes determinedly staring at something over Juyeon’s shoulder. He shuddered as Juyeon’s thumb stroked lightly over his bottom lip, and Juyeon found himself mirroring it. 

“But you could be?” Juyeon tested, and watched Hyunjae’s eyes flutter closed. 

“One day,” Hyunjae said. “If we had more time, maybe. If you weren’t about to go to war against your own court.”

“If you’d lived.” 

Hyunjae smiled sadly. 

“If I’d lived,” he agreed. “I think we would have found our way to each other eventually.” 

Juyeon took him into his arms, and for the first time, found himself hating how cold he felt against him.   
  
  


Morning arrived, and brought with it acts of war. 

Juyeon, still fighting the laces of his new vambraces, scurried into the command tent, finding Chan, Hongjoong, and all of their men gathered together in the midst of an argument. San was back on his feet, resting heavily against Wooyoung as he watched the bickering, looking closer to death than ever. 

“What have I missed?” Juyeon asked Younghoon breathlessly, and Chan rounded on him, fury ablaze on his face. 

“Seonghwa’s _fucking_ birds-”

“They were doing their duties, nothing more,” Seonghwa interrupted, his beautiful face twisted in irritation. 

“They were seen by capital soldiers,” Chan snarled. “You cannot tell me that didn’t inspire them to act-” 

“They know we’re here, Chan. They know _you’re_ here-” 

“But now they know they’re being watched-”

“Chan,” Hongjoong interrupted, stepping in front of his consort protectively. “Seonghwa’s birds did not do this - you’d be better off directing your anger at the men you came here to fight.” 

Juyeon glanced around in confusion, attention drawn to where Minho sat at the table, hunched over as painful-looking sobs wracked his body. Seungmin and Chanhee sat at his side, Seungmin with puffy, reddened eyes. Juyeon’s heart sank. 

“Something’s happened to Jisung, hasn’t it?” he said hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer. The anger on Chan’s face melted into something closer to fear, and he nodded. 

“The crows saw him on your city walls,” Chan said, “We don’t know how long he’s been up there, but- but he didn’t look like he was doing too good.” 

Hyunjin stepped forward, offering Juyeon a glass of water, and he took it curiously. 

“Have you ever seen a man be crucified, your grace?” 

A dizzying sensation of nausea ripped through Juyeon, leaving him swaying on his feet, and Hyunjin reached forward to stop him from collapsing. 

“Drink,” he instructed, and a chair appeared behind Juyeon for him to sink into. He took a sip of the water, finding it lightly sweetened, and desperately gulped down a mouthful.

“Crucifixion has been outlawed in our kingdom for centuries,” he wheezed, lungs constricting painfully. Hyunjin urged him to take another sip. “The temple of Helios deemed it heresy.” 

“So is draining a zealot dry, but it would appear Advisor Lee no longer cares about which gods he’s offending,” Chan said bitterly. “They’ve put him up there to die where everyone can see.” 

“But- Felix- they need Jisung to keep him under control?”

A small noise caught Juyeon’s attention, and he looked over to where Jeongin sat, watching them with terror written all over his face. Chan’s expression softened as he looked his way.

“Jisung is not our only zealot, Juyeon,” Chan said. “He just happens to be our loudest.” 

“We suspect Advisor Lee knows about this,” Hyunjin said. “That’s why he was so willing to use Jisung to taunt us. He’s probably planning a way to steal Jeongin as we speak.” 

“How the fuck does this man know so much about your court?” Wooyoung said, surprising Juyeon with how much venom he injected into his words. “He knew about your fire, now he knows about your zealots, _who the fuck is he_?” 

“I wish I knew,” Chan said, “but I’d never met him before our visit.” 

“He’d been with our family for years,” Juyeon said. “He was my father’s childhood friend, he watched me and my brothers grow-” 

“And he’d watch you die, if he could,” Younghoon said quietly. 

“We need to march on the city today,” Chan said. “We’ve officially run out of time.” 

“We haven’t met with the Advisors yet,” Younghoon protested. “The rules of war-”

“-Were broken the second they executed my father,” Juyeon interrupted. “We’re not fighting an invasion, Younghoon, we’re undoing a coup.” 

“A meeting with them would do nothing,” Chan agreed. “They very clearly have one goal in mind, and surrender is not it.” 

“I may have an idea,” Hongjoong said suddenly, and Chan scoffed. 

“They know exactly how many men are coming for them. If two armies aren’t enough to intimidate them into surrendering, I doubt anything you have in mind will change that.” 

Seonghwa frowned, looking offended on behalf of his husband, but Hongjoong just smiled to himself, running a hand down the scabbard of his greatsword. 

“I think,” Hongjoong said slowly, “that it’s time Jongho and his men joined the party.” 

His Justices perked up, San’s tired face brightening in wild anticipation, and Yunho let out a bark of laughter. 

“You’re in for a show, your grace,” he said to Juyeon, getting to his feet. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jongho fight.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Hongjoong said. “Their mere presence should be enough to pressure Advisor Lee into surrendering without any more blood being shed.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” Younghoon asked, watching Chanhee where he sat by Minho’s side, silently helping him choke down some sweet tea. Juyeon squeezed his friend’s arm comfortingly, the image of Hyunjae’s sweet smile seared into his brain. 

“We’ll keep our boys safe,” Juyeon said. “I promise.” 

Younghoon managed a weak smile in return, but Juyeon could see the fear lurking in his eyes, and hoped his own didn’t reflect it. 

  
  


The capital walls, for once in Juyeon’s life, looked intimidating rather than welcoming, the gates bolted shut with heavy chains, trenches dug into the ground and filled with dark, oily pitch. Ballistae that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades were set up at every tower, the tiny, dark figures of soldiers at their base and crawling along the battlements. Juyeon ached at the sight of his home, so warm and familiar, and yet full of men who would strike him down at the first opportunity. There was no sign of Jisung, no hint anywhere of what Seonghwa’s crows had seen, and Juyeon couldn’t decide if that was more or less of a concern. 

At Hongjoong’s instruction, they halted their approach with several miles between them and the walls. The grey king strode out into the empty space with naught but his sword at his side, and Juyeon watched him closely, his lack of bells leaving Juyeon unendingly curious as to how he would summon his dead. 

The breeze dropped, the air suddenly still and humming around them, like the moments before a thunderstorm hit. Hongjoong, standing by himself in the wide open field, looked unassumingly small, but Juyeon could see the sparks of green crackle around his fingers as they gripped his sword. The blade sank seamlessly into the frozen earth, the ground cracked open around it, tiny fragments of golden light floating up from underground around the king. 

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Juyeon’s attention, and he turned to see Yeosang emerge from the silent line of men, anticipation burning in his eyes, San and Yunho close behind. 

“Jongho!” Hongjoong called out, his voice unnaturally loud and clear from such a distance. “Come serve your king!” 

With a movement far swifter and easier than it logically should have been, he seized his greatsword with two hands, pulled it from the earth, and swung it over in a wide arc, slamming it blade edge down against the ground before him. A shockwave of energy exploded outwards, an icy wind blasting through the men, followed closely by the sudden, loud wails of a legion of the dead. From a cloudless sky, a bolt of lightning struck the earth where Hongjoong’s sword lay, sending jagged lines of electricity sprawling out in a wide circle around him. 

Behind Juyeon, the men gasped and all tried to back away, crashing into each other in fear, but the lightning didn’t reach them, stopping short by several feet, as though it knew they weren’t to be touched. 

One moment, Hongjoong stood alone, surrounded by sparks of lightning, and the next, an army stood before him, their ranks impeccable, their armor styled several centuries older than what Juyeon was familiar with. Every single soldier wore a helmet that shielded his face, a strange, grey smoke curling out from the joints of their armor, the faint hint of green shining from their helmet visors. 

A single man stepped forward and took off his helmet, shaking out his head of bright scarlet hair. He was very clearly dead, the tinge of grey to his skin unmistakable, but he greeted Hongjoong with a broad, sweet smile that made Juyeon wonder just how old he had been when he’d died. 

“Finally,” came a small voice, and Yeosang broke away from the men, his slim figure striding over to the king and his army of dead. The lightning beneath his feet seemed to melt away with each step, and Juyeon heard San snicker. 

“This should be fun,” he rasped. “How long’s it been - two, three years?” 

“Three and a half,” Yunho said, amusement rounding out his words. “Unless you’re counting that one time Yeosang banished his ass the second he showed up.” 

San laughed. “I’m still sad I missed that.” 

There was a loud crack as Yeosang slapped Jongho firmly across the face with all the strength he could muster, the ghost’s head snapping to the side. Juyeon heard several men gasp, followed by a loud peal of laughter from Hongjoong’s Justices, scattered among the frontline. Hongjoong himself looked deeply amused, shrugging when Jongho turned to look at him in betrayal. Yeosang raised his hand again threateningly, Jongho holding up his own hands in protest, but Hongjoong patiently caught Yeosang by the wrist and lowered it again, saying something that made the tension in his body leak out. 

“Twenty says Yeosang banishes him again before the day is over.” 

“Thirty says he does it before lunch,” San countered, and he and Yunho shook hands. 

“Surely he wouldn’t,” Juyeon said. “We need him and his army - Yeosang understands that-” 

“Oh,” San said with a smile, “Yeosang won’t banish the entire army, your grace, don’t worry. He knows Hongjoong would murder him if he had to do the whole summoning again.”

“A single man, on the other hand,” Yunho said, “takes far less effort to bring back. Hongjoong would be mildly annoyed, at most.” 

“Why couldn’t you do it?” Juyeon asked San curiously, and San huffed a laugh. 

“Do I look like I have the strength to summon armies?” he said wryly. “They’re tied to Hongjoong as an anchor, but hauling that many souls back in one go would probably kill me instantly” 

“How on earth does he have the power to anchor that many souls?” Juyeon breathed out in awe, and he heard a dry laugh behind him. 

“You haven’t worked it out, I take it?” Seonghwa said, a smug look on his face as he crossed his arms. Juyeon scowled at him, resentment still heavy in his stomach as he looked at the man. 

“Worked out _what_?” he snapped, and felt a warm hand grip his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to be rude, Seonghwa,” Yunho said calmly. “It’s not like he advertises it.” 

Seonghwa’s smirk made Juyeon bristle with annoyance, but he forced himself to be polite, bitterness thick on his tongue. 

“Is there something about your king I should know?” he asked, jaw clenched. Yunho hummed soothingly, his hand petting Juyeon’s shoulder. 

“Nothing to cause concern, your grace,” Yunho said. “You’ll need all the advantages you can get if you want to take your kingdom back.” 

"After all,” San piped up. “Your advisors may have a god's _weapon_ on their side, but they don't have a god."

"And we do?"

Seonghwa's answering smile sent unease prickling down Juyeon’s spine.

"Of course we do," he said. "Who else would an army of the dead bow before?"   
  
  


The day dragged on, non-combatants sent all the way to the back of the armies, Juyeon’s brothers whining as they were escorted away with a promise from Hyunjae that he’d watch over them. San was hauled away by a contended-looking Yeosang, Jongho trailing after them like a hurt puppy as they talked. His men set up their ranks to the left of Juyeon’s men, Chan’s army on the right, and Juyeon found himself front and center, Chan and Hongjoong on either side of him as they waited. 

The sun had just reached its peak in the sky when the great doors of the southern gate creaked open, a small hoard of men needed to unlock the chains. Northern soldiers spilled out in front of the city walls and formed messy, snarling ranks. The emerald green of their banners looked horribly out of place in front of the capital, flapping mockingly in the light breeze of the afternoon. There were thousands of them, far more than Juyeon knew made up the northern army, especially after their recent campaign in the east. He eyed their coat of arms as the frontline settled before them, searching for some explanation. 

The ranks suddenly split apart, exposing a path straight from the gate to where the three kings stood, and a small group emerged from the capital. 

The first thing he noticed was Lee Minjun himself, straight-backed and smug atop his horse. Following close behind him on foot was, to Juyeon’s overwhelming relief, Sangyeon, fully armored, a look of wary anticipation on his face. As Minjun brought them closer, a broad smile crossed Sangyeon’s handsome face as he laid eyes upon his brother. 

The relief was cut short when he saw who else accompanied them. 

Felix, his eyes glazed over as though drugged, stumbled behind Minjun’s horse, his hands shackled together and held captive by a long chain fastened to Minjun’s saddle. Crudely made binding chains lay soldered around his throat and ankles, dried blood caked beneath them. It took Hyunjin and Juyeon both to stop Chan from surging forward, fury poisoning his mind as saw his consort so mistreated. 

“Afternoon,” Advisor Lee said lightly, and Chan broke away, ducking from Juyeon’s grip and unsheathing his sword in one smooth movement. Sangyeon stopped him mere feet away from Advisor Lee, the steel of their swords clashing together. 

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Sangyeon said, his regret evident, “but I can’t let you do that.” 

Advisor Lee’s smug grin was infuriating, but rational thought must have returned to Chan, for he lowered his sword and stormed back, throwing off Hyunjin’s hand as he tried to calm his king. 

“Minjun,” Juyeon said through gritted teeth. 

“I like your armies,” Minjun said, lazily looking around. “Pity most will have to die.” 

"Bloodshed doesn’t have to be inevitable," Juyeon said, eying the sneering army of northerners. "You can still surrender, Minjun."

Advisor Lee scoffed, and snapped his fingers. One of the soldiers stepped forward, tall and thick with muscle, a broadsword in hand. The coat of arms on his breastplate, a lion rampant facing left, glinted in the sunlight. 

"Let us settle this the way the gods used to," Advisor Lee said. "This is my champion. Send your chosen warrior, _king_ , and we shall see who deserves to claim this day as victor."

Juyeon opened his mouth to immediately refuse, too much at stake for him to be comfortable placing his faith all in one man, but a firm hand clasped his shoulder before he could, Chan’s fingernails scraping against the metal of the armor. Fury radiated from every inch of his body, his eyes fixed on his consort. 

"Juyeon," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Allow me."

“Chan, this isn’t-”

“Let the adults talk, _your grace_ ,” Advisor Lee said, a mocking grin on his face.. “If the king thinks any of the men at your command stand a chance, let him prove it.” 

Anger flared hot in the pit of Juyeon’s stomach, his blood thudding in his ears, but Chan’s grip on his shoulder stayed solid. 

“ _Any_ of my men?” Chan said, and something in his voice made Advisor Lee frown. Juyeon saw the moment he realized his mistake, the man’s eyes flickering to somewhere over Juyeon’s left shoulder, the blood draining from his face. 

“You would let a foreign soldier fight in your name?” Advisor Lee sneered, but the fear was blatant on his face, his words losing their bite. 

Juyeon nodded, a sudden burst of confidence sending an electrifying thrill through his body. 

“I would,” he said slowly. “If he is willing.” 

“Hyunjin!” Chan barked, and the air seemed to shudder, every man holding their breath as Hyunjin stepped forward, bowing before his king. He slowly unsheathed the twin swords on his back, loosening his wrists as he twirled his blades and stretched his head from side to side. 

“Yes, your majesty?” 

Chan spun on his heel and seized Hyunjin’s collar, yanking him close. 

“Get me my boys back.”

Hyunjin grinned, a wide, unnerving smile, and turned to fix his eyes on the men before them. 

“With pleasure, your majesty.” 

Watching Hyunjin fight was breathtaking, an agent of death doing precisely what he was put on this earth to do, and over far quicker than anyone could have anticipated. Victory came swift and merciless, his skill with his blades unmatched by the slow-moving soldier sent to challenge him. 

With a movement almost too fast to follow, Hyunjin struck the man down, one blade burying itself in his gut, spraying blood everywhere as he tore it free, the other embedded through his skull. 

Hyunjin set his foot on the dead man's shoulder and dragged his blade out with a sickeningly wet sound, body heaving with exertion. Triumph flooded Juyeon’s veins, and he looked up in anticipation, desperate to see the expression on Advisor Lee's face.

That triumph turned to ash as he laid eyes upon an archer, standing next to the traitorous advisor, who pulled back his string, the arrow aimed at Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin-!"

Hyunjin looked up, startled, just as the arrow was released. It hit its target with nauseating accuracy, piercing Hyunjin through his left eye, the arrowhead emerging from the back of his head. His golden hair wet with blood, Hyunjin dropped where he stood, dead before he hit the ground.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls pray for me i don't know how battle scenes work


	10. the zealots, the hurricane, and the unchained beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a *struggle* lemme tell you. Between life deciding to throw all kinds of emotional nonsense at me, my ankle deciding to give up while I was standing outside a bakery, and the Lunar New Year, this chapter just did not want to know my problems. But it’s here, we’re done, all that’s left is the epilogue which I have already started writing. It should wrap up any dangly threads this chapter left unanswered. As long as I remember them :v
> 
> Thank you so much for giving this ridiculousness your love and attention. This was pure self-indulgence from beginning to end, and to have people along for the ride with me was amazing and slightly overwhelming~ 
> 
> And to those who have left me essay-length comments chapter after chapter, you have no idea how much they motivated me to keep going, reminded me of plot points I had forgotten about (oops), and brightened my day whenever I saw your usernames show up in my notifications ♡ 
> 
> Warning for character death in this chapter, one last time.

Ἐνυάλιος Enyalius [Enyalios]: epithet for Ares, _the_ _war-like_

  
  
  
  


Silence. 

Deafening, nauseating silence. 

Juyeon’s lungs felt trapped in iron bands, each breath a struggle as he stared blankly at Hyunjin’s body. At his side, Chan fell to his knees, an agonizing cry of despair tearing itself from his throat as he hit the ground. Juyeon reached out a hand unthinkingly, gripping the other king’s shoulder tight, though it felt more for his own comfort rather than Chan’s. He shook beneath Juyeon’s grip, body tense and trembling, and Juyeon looked up helplessly at Hongjoong. 

The king of the dead’s eyes were narrowed, fixed on Advisor Lee instead of Hyunjin. Somewhere high above their heads, a crow cawed. 

“Did you know,” Hongjoong said slowly, “that the one thing the entire pantheon of the gods look down upon is cowardice?” 

Advisor Lee sneered, indicating the archer to nock a second arrow. The man appeared a little hesitant, glancing between his lord and Hongjoong, but reached behind him regardless. The second his fingers brushed the fletching of an arrow, the crow above them dived, its aim impeccable. 

With a shout of agonized surprise, the archer stumbled back clutching at his face, the bird having successfully plucked out an eye, his bow clattering to the ground. Advisor Lee went pale, jerking away from the flailing man, and ushered for someone to remove him from his side. He glanced at Hongjoong, his face twisted in shock, and Juyeon figured out what he intended to do seconds before he did it. 

“Swords!” he yelled out, and there was a sudden wave of movement as the vanguard all readied for battle. Just in time, for Advisor Lee raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and thrust it forward, the northern soldiers drawing their own weapons as one and launching themselves towards the closest target. The clash of steel on steel rang sharply across the field, several men rushing in front of the three kings to protect them. 

Panic singing in his veins, Juyeon crouched down next to Chan, shaking him urgently as the sounds of bloodshed began to echo through the air. 

“We need to move,” he barked. “Your men need their leader, Chan, you can’t die here.” 

Hyunjin’s body was no longer visible, too many men and bloodied swords between them, but Chan’s eyes remained staring unseeingly in its direction, his hands curled into fists at his side. Juyeon desperately hooked his arms under Chan’s and hauled him to his feet, looking around for assistance. 

It blessedly came in the form of Jeongin, shoving his way through soldiers, his face wet with tears and his eyes blazing. He methodically tore off his clothes as he approached them, curling steam lingering around his body, the veins of fire embedded in his flesh making the men around him give him a wide berth. His coat fell to the ground, followed by his waist coat, the corset ties yanked apart with unnatural strength, until all he was left with was a loose, unevenly buttoned white shirt, the sleeves shoved up to expose the smoldering embers of his arms. 

“Jeongin,” Chan said hoarsely, and he finally looked up. “Burn them.” 

Jeongin’s entire body went up in flames, his silhouette visible as a dark, demonic shadow, and he threw himself into the battle, Juyeon’s own men yelling in surprise as they were thrown back by moving fire, the stinking smell of burning flesh rising thick and acrid as northern soldiers were engulfed.

Terrified, Juyeon seized Chan’s wrist, stopping him as he made to unsheathe his sword, and the king’s other hand came up to punch Juyeon square in the jaw. 

“ _Shit_ -”

“Let go of me, Juyeon,” Chan snarled. “These men need to die.” 

“My brother is still by Advisor Lee’s side,” Juyeon snapped. “Try and remember that when you’re blindly cutting down everyone in your path.” 

Chan wrenched his hand free, sword singing as he withdrew it, and Juyeon backed away quickly as the king followed his men into the fray. A cool hand gripped his and _yanked_ , Hongjoong hauling him out of the chaos of the vanguard, and Juyeon stumbled as the king dragged him back to the awaiting lines of men. 

“Your army needs orders, Juyeon,” Hongjoong barked. “Time to be a king.” 

He spun on his heel and marched off towards Jongho and the army of the dead, the captain himself waiting with his helmet under his arm. Juyeon watched him go, his mind horrifyingly blank, and he turned to face his soldiers. The men before him all seemed eager to fight, hands on sword hilts, righteous fury on their faces, but all Juyeon could think of in the middle of it all was Hyunjin, how suddenly he’d died, how smug Lee Minjun had looked. 

“I-” 

His voice died, ice flooding his veins, and he saw the confident expressions of several of his soldiers falter. Murmuring erupted amongst them, doubt seeping in the longer Juyeon remained silent, and in the distance, he heard the sudden cry of terror as Jongho’s army joined the battle. Surrounded on both sides by brave men fighting and dying for their kings, all Juyeon could do was shake. 

A warm body pressed against his shoulder made him jerk in surprise, Younghoon’s jaw clenched as he took his place at his king’s side. Another hand gripped his shoulder, Jacob barking out orders to his company to silence them. 

"You can do this _,_ Juyeon," Younghoon hissed through gritted teeth. "You’re their king now, they are bound by duty and honor to obey you.” 

“They can’t move without your word,” Jacob added. “Let them fight for you, your grace.” 

“But they’ll die,” Juyeon croaked out weakly. The cold in his hands shifted to a painful prickle, and he squeezed his fingers into a fist, wishing desperately there was another, smaller hand in his for him to cling to. 

“It’s the risk we all took when we swore ourselves to your family,” Jacob said, his voice gentling. “Let them go, your grace. Let them fight for their home, then, if not for you.” 

Juyeon glanced up, seeing Jacob’s small, encouraging smile, and a figure over Jacob’s shoulder caught his attention. Kevin was watching them closely, his bow clutched in his hands, and something sparked in the back of Juyeon’s mind. 

“Archers,” Juyeon whispered, and Younghoon nudged him surreptitiously. Juyeon cleared his throat and spoke again. 

“Archers!” he called out, voice louder and firmer, and his men snapped to attention. “Ready yourselves behind the second line. Aim for the lines closest to the city walls!” 

“There we go,” Jacob muttered, and squeezed Juyeon’s shoulder once before letting his hand drop. Juyeon drew his sword, and the sound of steel sang through the air as his men did the same. A quick glance to his left revealed the tiny, proud smile on Younghoon’s face, and he nodded ever so slightly when he caught Juyeon looking. 

“Men of the middle kingdom!” Juyeon proclaimed, turning to face the chaos. “soldiers blessed by the god of sun and sight. Fight for your home - rid this country of the men who seek to destroy it.” 

A great cry rose up through the ranks behind him, and for the first time, Juyeon felt a little like the ruler he was meant to be.

  
  


Men fought and died around Juyeon as the battle raged on, his own sword soaked with the blood of the fallen. Younghoon had disappeared what seemed like an age ago, Jacob vanishing with his company into the mess of bodies, leaving Juyeon amongst loyal soldiers who fiercely protected their king where they could. To the right of the battle, smoke continued to billow up into the air, following what had to be Jeongin’s god-blessed rampage for vengeance. To the left, the cries of northern soldiers cut off abruptly as Jongho’s men struck them down, the dead ruthlessly efficient at snuffing out life. That left Juyeon and his army, supported by a line of archers at their backs, methodically cutting their way towards the city gates. 

Exhaustion crept into Juyeon’s bones as another man fell before him, the light in his eyes snuffed out by the blade in his gut. Juyeon dragged his sword free, pausing for a moment to gasp for air, and his eyes fell upon Hongjoong, the king’s armor pristine even as his greatsword shone red. He caught Juyeon’s eye, a wild grin taking over his face, and he winked. 

“Yunho!” Hongjoong barked, his voice carrying above the clash of swords. “Time to bring the fallen back, let them continue their fight!” 

Juyeon looked around frantically for the man, finding him hunched over a recently dead soldier. He perked up at his king’s words, his eyes gleaming green when he straightened, and without hesitation, strode through the chaotic barrier that was the frontline. The northern army didn’t seem to notice him at first, but his presence didn’t remain a secret for very long. The soldiers seemed stumped by his brazen lack of fear, several halting their frantic fighting to stare at him as he passed. Juyeon’s and Chan’s men took advantage of their surprise and struck them down while Yunho pressed onwards. 

He stopped before a large scattering of bodies, the dead and the dying laid out before him, and, somewhere deep underground beneath Juyeon’s feet, something shivered. 

With one swift movement, Yunho brought one arm down across the other, slamming his vambraces together. The bells _howled_ , a shockwave rippling out through the air from where he stood, and Juyeon realized with a sudden wheeze that he had been holding his breath. The sound of something whistling through the air made several men duck in horror, all frantically looking around for the oncoming enemy, but Juyeon kept his eyes on Yunho, the necromancer holding himself curiously still as his bells continued to wail. 

The first dead man to stumble back to his feet made nausea lurch thick in Juyeon’s stomach. The man stared at his right arm, hanging on desperately by a few tendons, and then with a loud, gut-wrenching war cry, picked up his fallen sword with his left hand and launched himself at the closest northern soldier. His target, paralyzed with fear, could do nothing as he was killed, the dead claiming another for their own. 

One by one, the corpses on the ground hauled themselves up, Yunho calling their recently departed souls back to repossess their bodies. Some looked confused at their sudden reanimation, others grabbed the closest weapon they could find and ran, screaming, into the first enemy they came across. 

Juyeon glanced at Hongjoong, a look of satisfaction on his face, and shivered at the reminder of just how powerful the lord of the southern kingdom was. 

He stumbled as a soldier fell against him, wailing in pain and clutching a wound on his side. Helplessly, he caught the man and carefully lowered him to the ground, looking around desperately for assistance.

The shouting and screaming around him seemed to suddenly vanish, as though Juyeon had been dropped underwater. The silence was deafening, rendering Juyeon dizzy. Disorientated, he handed the injured soldier to his equally confused comrade, and staggered to his feet.

He waded through the mess of soldiers, all frozen in place and staring in the same direction, until his feet brought him to a wide, unnaturally clear spot on the battlefield. Juyeon pushed through to the front, his own men’s faces all slack with fear. 

The first thing he saw was Sunwoo, temple robes splattered with blood, standing with his back to him, unnaturally still. The shock of seeing him on the battlefield sent Juyeon reeling, the world titling alarmingly in front of his eyes, before he surged forward desperately towards his cousin. He stumbled to a halt when he saw exactly what had stopped the fighting. 

Resembling three terrifying avatars of divine vengeance, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix stood side by side in the middle of the clearing. Jisung's mouth was bloody, his hands still bearing the brutal wounds of crucifixion, scarlet smeared across Hyunjin's lips like war paint. There was no sign of the arrow that had killed him, his hair clean and shining in the sunlight, his twin swords once more in his hands. The only hint towards his death was his eye, a gruesome mess of blood and exposed bone. The air around the three blurred and rippled, waves of heat rolling over the field, suffocating and scalding, the glowing, flickering light of Ares in their eyes. 

"Hyunjin," said Jisung, and the voice that spoke from his mouth sent bolts of awe and fear through every man present, the knowledge of the divine presence sitting heavy and overwhelming beneath Juyeon’s rib cage 

"Yes, _enyalios_?"

The god Ares lifted Jisung's hand and placed it on Hyunjin's shoulder.

"Make your enemies bleed." 

" _Yes, enyalios_." 

Hyunjin unleashed was _terrifying_. His blades moved too fast for the human eye to follow, cutting down men before they had a chance to scream, blood soaking the earth as he moved. He sliced through armor and flesh and bone with equal ease, his swords singing as they were fed soul after soul. The ground beneath his feet erupted into flame with each step he took, the fire burning out just as quickly as it began, leaving scorched blackened footprints in his wake. Juyeon watched, paralyzed in place, as men wailed and pleaded and died without mercy. With a sickening crunch, one of Hyunjin’s swords buried itself through the eye of a northern general, his colors stained red as his body sank to the ground. Juyeon looked away, nauseous, in time to see the man that was no longer Jisung take Felix’s face into his hands. 

“My fire,” he crooned, stroking a thumb across the swell of Felix’s bottom lip. “Would you like to destroy the men who used you?” 

Felix trembled with barely constrained power, his eyes pure scarlet. 

“ _Please,_ ” he whispered, and Ares twisted Jisung’s face into a wide, manic expression of glee. 

“Try not to kill your king,” Jisung said, and pressed his lips to Felix’s own. His hands tore through the poorly constructed binding collar around Felix’s throat, and he stepped back, laughing wildly. 

Juyeon saw a brief glimpse of Felix’s face, mouth open in ecstasy, before he _exploded_ , body tearing itself apart as the power within him was set free. 

The eternal fire towered over the battlefield, huge and overwhelming and stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. Through the blinding glow that surrounded it, Juyeon could just about make out a vaguely humanoid form, its limbs unnaturally long and extended, several pairs of wings stretching out behind it. It crouched down on all fours like a beast, claws gouging huge tracts into the earth. Juyeon, the power of a god keeping him rooted in place, could do nothing but stare at the monster that had taken Hyunjae from him. 

It slowly drew itself up to its full height, petrified screams rising across the field as soldiers saw it, and it began to move. Unlike Hyunjin, the eternal fire did not strike down every man in its path, passing through the chaos uncaringly as it made its way towards some unknown goal. A burning colossus, soldiers on either side abandoned their weapons as it passed them, desperately scrambling out of its path. The three kings’ armies took advantage of this distraction, cutting down enemy soldiers with little effort. 

“Juyeon-!” 

Younghoon burst through the thick press of bodies around him, crashing into Juyeon’s side. There was a deep cut on his forehead, leaking blood down one side of his face, but he didn’t seem to care. 

“Are you seeing this?” Juyeon asked faintly, but Younghoon didn’t seem to care about the actual god standing mere feet away, choosing instead to punch Juyeon firmly on the shoulder. 

“It’s heading towards the city walls,” Younghoon said, panic thick in his voice. “I don’t- there’s no way to stop it, our entire city will burn-”

“And why,” came the earth shattering voice of the god of war, “would I allow my fire to take more lives of the innocent, when there are so many in dire need of retribution.” 

Younghoon flinched away at the sound, ducking behind Juyeon as though his mortal body could shield him from Ares’ wrath. Jisung’s soft, youthful face blinked at them slowly, Ares laughing at them from behind his eyes. 

In the distance, a sudden boom of thunder sounded, the eternal fire’s flames erupting into a massive whirlwind of heat and dirt and screams. It soared into the sky, sending a shower of ash raining down onto the battlefield, and Juyeon watched, terrified, as wind ripped through flags and sent soldiers tumbling over where they stood. 

With a sound like a gasp, the whirlwind drew up the air, hovering as a giant, burning cloud, before dissipating entirely, the eternal fire nowhere to be seen. The men seemed to hold their breath, the air eerily still and quiet, before a slow, triumphant cheer began from where the fire had been. He glanced at Younghoon, who shrugged back, blinking blood out of his eyes. 

“It would appear that my fire found his target,” Ares said, sounding pleased. “Hope you weren’t too set on ending the traitor’s life yourself.” 

A strange feeling of numbness crept over Juyeon’s body, his fingers prickling around the hilt of his sword, and Younghoon let out a short, disbelieving bark of laughter. The few remaining northern soldiers around them allowed their weapons to drop to the ground as they surrendered to Juyeon’s and Chan’s men. 

“We did it, Juyeon,” Younghoon crowed, slapping him firmly between the shoulder blades in joy. Juyeon blinked at him, feeling somewhat adrift. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a head of silver hair glinting in the sunlight, Hongjoong uncaring of their audience as he was reunited with his consort, kissing Seonghwa hungrily as his greatsword fell to the ground.

A sudden movement caught Juyeon’s attention, and several familiar faces appeared through the crowd. Changbin was forced to yank Minho into his arms when he laid eyes upon Jisung, Minho’s cries of protests dying when he realized it was not his lover who stood before them. Something else caught their notice, the blood draining from their faces, and Juyeon turned to see Hyunjin reappear, the tension is his body slipping away as he stopped before his god. 

“Good boy,” Ares said, and patted him lightly on the cheek. One of Chan’s men made a strangled sound of alarm, which made Ares chuckle, but the god’s attention was caught by another figure making its way towards them. 

Sunwoo slowly strolled his way over, his acolyte chains broken, the ends hanging limply around his shoulders. Juyeon reached weakly for his cousin as he passed, but something held him back, made him pull his hand away just before it brushed Sunwoo’s arm. 

“ _Megistos_ ,” breathed a soldier, voice trembling in awe, and Juyeon realized what had stopped him.

"Helios," Hongjoong nodded in greeting, appearing entirely unfazed by the god before him. Sunwoo, eyes blazing with all the contained light of the sun, looked at the king of the dead and sighed.

"You're still here, then?" he said, and his voice boomed across the sky. Hongjoong just smirked and shrugged.

"I found some entertainment," he said simply.

Helios shook his head as though exasperated by the man, and strode forward towards Jisung. Ares still burned in his eyes, his skin starting to split and smolder, as though the god it contained was beginning to break free.

“Really?” Ares said. “First time in centuries and you pick a child?” 

"You've been in there long enough, brother," Sunwoo said, ignoring his words and placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “I’m here to take you back before you start blinding your people.” 

“Says you-” 

"Come home, lest you break another one."

"That was one time," Ares rumbled, and Helios laughed, a sound glorious as the dawn. Juyeon trembled with awe as he watched his god, Younghoon frozen at his side. 

"One more thing," Ares said, "and then we can go."

He made his way to Hyunjin, who still stood catatonic, and pressed a hand to Hyunjin's jaw, the other carefully stroking a line over his ruined eye. A bright, silvery scar emerged from the trail his finger made, the eye itself glowing briefly before healing, the iris now a deep amber.

"Enjoy your gift, my hurricane," Ares purred. “You fought well.” 

Like a candle being extinguished, the fire in Jisung’s eyes went out, leaving him swaying unsteadily where he stood. He managed one trembling step before his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground. Minho was by his side in an instant, gathering the trembling man into his arms and laughing wetly as he pressed kisses all over Jisung’s face. Jisung groaned and tried to bat Minho away, but his body, having so recently held a god, no longer had the strength to fight off Minho’s affections, and he eventually gave up and lay docile in Minho’s arms, allowing himself to be kissed. 

“How _the fuck_ did you escape?” Changbin demanded, limping over to them. Jisung gestured at Sunwoo weakly. 

“That one appeared at my cell doors with a god inside him,” he said. “Tore them off one-handed - it was very impressive.” 

Sunwoo’s release was significantly less dramatic, Helios present one moment and gone the next, leaving him blinking and looking around in confusion. 

“Did it work?” he said, voice small and uncertain, and Juyeon yanked his cousin into his arms, relief leaving him dizzy.

Hyunjin’s swords fell to the ground, followed shortly by the man himself as he sank to his knees and gasped as life flooded back into his body. There was a loud cry of joy from somewhere behind Juyeon, and Jeongin, barefoot and leaving behind burning patches of grass, flung himself at Hyunjin. Hyunjin, a wild, disbelieving laugh escaping him, hauled them both to their feet and, apparently uncaring of injury, caught Jeongin in a brief, sweet kiss. Jeongin yelped and jerked away, hands immediately flying up to Hyunjin’s face, but was stumped when he realized Hyunjin was unburnt. 

“I don’t understand,” Jeongin whispered, and looked down as he lifted a foot, as though to check that he was still setting fires. The acrid smell of burning grass bloomed beneath him, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

“I’m invincible,” Hyunjin said teasingly, and then immediately let out a startled yell as Jeongin looked up and slapped him. 

“What was that for?” Hyunjin cried out, a hand laying protectively over his cheek, and Jeongin pointedly swiped a finger over his newly bloodied bottom lip. Hyunjin pouted at him, looking deeply betrayed. 

“Thought you were invincible?” Jeongin said dryly. 

“There were better ways of testing that,” Hyunjin mumbled, but accepted Jeongin’s kiss of apology nonetheless. 

Relief, cool and dizzying, rushed through Juyeon’s body, but it was to be short-lived. 

“My lord!”

Juyeon whipped his head around at the sudden shout, Yunho appearing with San draped over his back, his arms hooked beneath San’s knees in the same way Juyeon used to carry Eric. San, death a shadow that loomed ever closer, trembled violently, teeth shaking so hard they audibly chattered. Blood trickled from his nose and ears, and every breath he took sounded agonizing. The bells on his hand trilled sadly, as though they knew something was wrong. 

Hongjoong was at their side in an instant, curling an arm around San and carefully helping him down to slump against his side. The king stroked a soft hand over San’s head, murmuring soothing nonsense as he looked around the battlefield. 

“Where is he?” he mouthed to Seonghwa, and Juyeon saw him shrug helplessly. Next to him, Hyunjae appeared out of nowhere and slipped a small, cold hand into his own, squeezing tightly.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, and Juyeon had to stop himself from sweeping him up into his arms. 

“Now I am,” he answered, and Hyunjae gave him a small, sad smile. 

“Sannie,” Hongjoong said quietly. “You’ve done so much for us - for me. If you need to rest-” 

“No,” San rasped. “I can’t- it’s too soon, I need to-” 

A fit of coughing interrupted his protests, blood spattering across the scorched ground. Hongjoong held him tight ‘til it passed, and helped him drink some water from a small bottle Yunho handed him. 

“You’ll see him your next life, San,” Hongjoong said. “It’s okay to let go of this one.” 

“ _No-_ ” 

“San?”

The tension left in San’s frail body drained instantly as Wooyoung stepped forward, seemingly out of thin air.

“Woo,” San cooed happily, and Wooyoung smiled. 

“Hey,” he said. “Heard you were looking for me?” 

San lifted a weak arm and reached imploringly for his lover. Wooyoung fell to his knees in front of him, taking him from Hongjoong’s arms. 

“Sannie,” Wooyoung whispered, gently touching their foreheads together. “Sannie, it’s time.” 

San trembled in Wooyoung’s arms and tried to shake his head, but it appeared he had lost what little strength remained to complain. Wooyoung glanced at Hongjoong over San’s shoulder, and the king nodded, a little sadly. Juyeon felt his heart splinter apart in his chest, and drew Hyunjae close. 

“I thought we’d have more time,” he whispered, ashamed at his own selfish sadness. Hyunjae smiled and pressed his hand to Juyeon’s cheek. He stroked his thumb along his jaw lightly, sending ice down Juyeon’s spine. The faster San’s life drained away, the dimmer Hyunjae’s smile seemed to get. 

“We knew it would end,” Hyunjae said quietly. “We had more time than most.” 

Juyeon swallowed around the lump in his throat, and held his fading body tight. 

“Sannie,” Wooyoung said. “It’s time we _both_ rested, don’t you think? Everyone knows I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

There was a small disturbance from behind a group of soldiers, and Yeosang shoved his way through, falling to his feet next to San and Wooyoung. The Keres bells rang around his waist, but for once, they seemed at peace. 

“Woo,” Yeosang croaked out, ‘you can't - he _promised_.” 

Wooyoung squeezed San lightly. “So you said,” he said. “But I didn’t realize what I’d be losing when I let him bring me back, Sangie. You can't ask me to let him go, not after everything.” 

A small, defeated sob escaped Yeosang’s throat. 

“Will you stay with us?” Wooyoung asked, a little hesitant, but Yeosang nodded, tears spilling down his face. 

“‘Til the end,” he said, and Wooyoung took one of his hands in his own. 

“‘Til the very end,” Wooyoung said, and whispered something inaudible in San’s ear. Hongjoong got to his feet, Jongho appearing and handing him his sword, and Seonghwa turned away, pain clear on his face. 

“Juyeon,” San wheezed suddenly, and Hongjoong paused. Juyeon started in surprise, stepping forward nervously as everyone around them turned their attention on him. Hyunjae kept his firm grip on Juyeon’s hand even then. 

“Yes?” Juyeon said, a little hesitantly. 

“I asked you once,” San said, turning to rest his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder so he could look at Juyeon, “what you would give to see him again. Do you remember the offer you made?” 

“Of course,” Juyeon said weakly. “I said I would give you anything.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hyunjae groaned quietly. “Please say you didn’t.” 

“I had to see you,” Juyeon said, unapologetic. “Whatever he asks of me now, it was worth it.” 

“You idiot,” Hyunjae said, and pressed his cold mouth to the sharp edge of Juyeon’s jawline. 

“Do you know how many people have promised me the same?” San said, “And yet, not once have I believed them.” 

Hyunjae’s fingers dug painfully Juyeon’s hand, fingernails biting into skin. 

“Woo,” San whispered. “I think I know how it ends.” 

“They deserve it,” Wooyoung whispered back. “Hongjoong?” 

The king stepped forward, and Wooyoung helped San stand one last time. Yeosang stepped back and closed his eyes.

“Thank you, my lord,” San said, and for the first time in weeks, his voice came out clear and strong. Wooyoung beamed and leaned up on his toes to press their mouths together. 

With one swift movement that Juyeon’s eyes couldn’t follow, Hongjoong buried his sword through San’s back, piercing Wooyoung simultaneously. Juyeon saw San’s body seize, a tear falling down Wooyoung’s face, and the necromancer collapsed. Yeosang dove forward to catch him in his arms as Wooyoung vanished, as did Hyunjae’s hand from Juyeon’s grip. 

A wretched sob cut through the air, and it took Juyeon a moment to realize it had come from his own throat. Warm hands steadied him as he swayed, but he barely felt them, the sensation of cool fingers tangled in his already fading. Suddenly suffocated by his armor, he tore at the buckles at his shoulders, throwing the breast and back plates to the ground as he gasped.

"Breathe, Juyeon," came Younghoon's steady voice as he rubbed calming circles on Juyeon's back. Juyeon shook his head mutely, afraid that if he opened his mouth then all his pain would come spilling out. Hyunjae was gone. He'd had him back for a brief, exhilarating few weeks, was allowed to see how life with him could have been, learned _so_ much more about the man who had been his fiancé, and now-

Now, there was nothing, no evidence he had ever held Hyunjae in his arms, save for the memories of how he felt as he laughed. 

"Juyeon, please-"

"I _can't,"_ he choked out, and the hysterical sobs burst free. Juyeon hiccupped and choked for air as he cried, clenching Younghoon's arm for strength as he allowed his despair to overwhelm him as he fell to his knees. His chest ached, his lungs burning, and with a start, he realized he was hyperventilating. 

Younghoon’s warm hands felt scalding, their gentle touch undeserved and unwelcomed. Pain wrenched through every part of Juyeon’s body, grief for his father, for his soldiers who had died for him, for San and Wooyoung and their warmth and comforting smiles. For the sacrifices he had asked his friends to make, for Sunwoo, for Changmin, for Jacob and Kevin and the loss of the slow, sweet courtship they’d deserved. 

For Hyunjae, and the life they could have- _should have_ \- had together. 

Younghoon held him tight as he shook apart, the metal of his armor underneath Juyeon’s cheek cold and strangely comforting. His tears had only just begun to slow when the firm hand on his back stopped its slow circles, Younghoon stiffening around him. 

“Juyeon,” he said, an odd twist to his voice. Unable to interpret it, Juyeon tried to ignore him, but a hand tangled itself into his hair and tugged impatiently. 

"Juyeon, _look_ _._ " 

Younghoon's hand gripped his jaw and yanked his head to the side. Juyeon grimaced, blinking away tears to try and see what Younghoon was so insistent about.

"Did you cry like this the first time I died?"

Juyeon went still, a cry caught in his throat, and stared at the man before them.

"Younghoon?" he said.

"Mm?"

"Am I hallucinating?"

"Not this time."

"Am I dead? Did- did I die on the field, is this the afterlife?"

"Not as far as I'm aware, no."

Juyeon heaved in an unsteady breath, then pressed his hands to his eyes and rubbed furiously. When he lowered them, Hyunjae remained, an eyebrow raised expectantly. 

"You're here," Juyeon croaked. "You're real."

He glanced over at San's body in disbelief, where Yeosang still sat and cradled him close. Yeosang sniffed thickly, but gave Juyeon a small, sincere smile and nodded.

"Guess you're going to have to marry me after all," Hyunjae said, and Juyeon threw off Younghoon's hold and staggered to his feet, launching himself at him. 

They both toppled to the ground, Hyunjae grunting in pain as his elbow hit a rock, but all Juyeon could focus on was how _warm_ he felt beneath him. 

  
  



	11. epilogue: aeturnum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the end! Thank you to everyone who stuck around this long ♡ This chapter is nothing but shameless fluff and self-indulgent cameos- enjoy!
> 
> (Everybody gets a cheesy happy ending because I say so)

For the fourth time in as many days, Juyeon awoke to the sound of screaming.

He lay in bed listening to his cousin yell, grinning up at his ceiling as the day he'd been yearning for stretched out before him. A loud crash and Younghoon's cry of protest finally made him sit up, just as his bedroom door burst open and what felt like the entire population of the palace came pouring in.

“Hyunjae says the wedding is off,” Changmin announced, collapsing onto Juyeon’s bed. Juyeon blinked serenely down at him. 

“What’s the reason this time?” Juyeon asked, tilting his head to one side, and beamed gratefully at Sangyeon when he passed him a cup of tea. 

“Kevin got his hands on more hair dye,” Sangyeon explained. “It didn’t go well.” 

“What color is it now?” 

“Oh, _his_ hair is fine,” Sunwoo said, crawling on top of Changmin and attempting to smother him to death with a pillow. “Your future husband, however, is no longer as blond as he was at the start of the week.” 

Juyeon choked on his tea, and Sangyeon grimaced when several droplets landed on his freshly pressed uniform trousers. 

“So what-?” 

“Jacob and your mother are in the process of fixing it,” Sunwoo said, grinning when Changmin went still beneath him. “But I can tell you confidently that green isn’t his color.” 

The bedroom door opened once more, Kevin trudging in looking thoroughly chastised, followed by Hyunjae himself, his damp hair wrapped up in a towel, the shoulders of his sleep-shirt stained a murky olive green. 

“Morning,” Juyeon said, feeling a wide grin cross his face at the sight of his soon-to-be husband.

“I can’t marry you today,” Hyunjae replied, and Kevin made a small, injured noise. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Juyeon said, shifting as much as he could with his cousin and a possibly dead Changmin still on the bed. He patted the blanket invitingly, and Hyunjae threw himself down with a dramatic sigh. 

“I’ll bring embarrassment upon the royal family like this,” he said, resting a hand over his eyes. “How are other kings supposed to respect you when your husband looks like a fungus.” 

“A very cute fungus,” Juyeon assured him. “Makes all the other fungi jealous.” 

“I hate you.” 

“That’s not what you said last night.” 

Everyone around them groaned, Sangyeon turning a little grey, and Hyunjae muffled a snort of laughter. The door creaked open yet again, Juyeon’s mother poking her head in and rolling her eyes when she saw the collection of boys in and around Juyeon’s bed. 

“There you are,” she huffed. “Back to the bathroom, Hyunjae, that dye needs to be rinsed.” 

“It’s no use,” Hyunjae said, rolling over and burying his head in Juyeon’s lap. “I’m doomed to be hideous forever.” 

Juyeon tried to shift furtively away, hyperware of how close Hyunjae’s face was to his groin, and Kevin caught his eye, winking when he noticed Juyeon’s discomfort. Juyeon bravely ignored him.

“Nonsense,” the queen said. “And Juyeon, you have guests arriving. I suggest you greet them wearing pants this time.” 

“Chan didn’t care,” Juyeon said defensively. “It was their fault for arriving at four in the morning, after all.”

“Whatever the case,” she said, walking in and hauling Hyunjae to his feet with a surprising amount of strength. “I doubt the new king of the north will appreciate it.” 

Juyeon gulped down the last of his tea and scrambled out of bed. 

“He came?” he said, turning and allowing Sangyeon to help him shrug on a jacket. “So soon after his father’s execution?” 

His mother nodded, peering underneath Hyunjae’s hair towel. 

“From what I hear, he is particularly concerned with proving he’s nothing like his father,” she said. “They lost a lot of good soldiers to that man’s poor judgment.” 

Kevin muttered something under his breath which made Queen Heiran frown. Hyunjae saw the disapproving turn of her mouth and leaned over to smack his brother upside the head. 

“You can insult them _after_ my wedding day, thank you,” he said, and Kevin scowled. 

“Where is he now?” Juyeon said, shoving his feet into the first pair of boots he could find. “Has Chan seen him? Do you know if Hongjoong will make it in time-?” 

“Juyeon,” his mother interrupted him, smiling gently. “He’s downstairs in the greeting hall, just like every other guest has been. I doubt the eastern king is up this early, And as for the king of dead-” 

“They’ll make it, Juyeon,” Sangyeon reassured him. “One of those accursed crows was spotted less than an hour ago. They won’t miss your wedding.” 

Juyeon swallowed thickly, turning to Hyunjae and holding out his arms. Hyunjae escaped the queen’s grasp and plastered himself against Juyeon’s chest, squeezing him tightly. 

“I’ll see you this evening,” Hyunjae murmured. “Please promise you’ll marry me even if I still look like decaying foliage.” 

“Even if you land up with no hair at all,” Juyeon swore, and laughed when Hyunjae groaned despairingly into his jacket. 

There was a small army of maid servants waiting outside Juyeon’s bedroom, armed with fresh sheets and cleaning supplies and what looked to be every single candle available in the palace. They shooed everyone out, Hyunjae being dragged off by his brother and the queen, and Juyeon and Sangyeon made their way down to the reception hall. 

The new ruler of the northern kingdom was unexpectedly young and irritatingly tall, his crown sitting on garishly pink hair. He stood as Juyeon entered the hall, what had to be his entourage around him all appearing equally young, and Juyeon had to stop himself from glancing at Sangyeon in disbelief. 

“Your grace,” the northern king said with a bow. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, after- after everything.” 

“And you, Yeonjun,” Juyeon said, bowing in return. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

One of Yeonjun’s men snorted, and looked completely unfazed when Yeonjun turned to glare at him. 

“Forgive me, your grace,” he said dryly. “But let’s be honest, no-one really gave a shit about that old fu-”

“Beomgyu, _please_ ,” another man said, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Please, keep your thoughts to yourself, for once.” 

“He can’t help it,” piped up a third man, his hair dyed white-blond, and he smiled sweetly when Beomgyu let out a string of muffled expletives. Yeonjun turned back to Juyeon, face pink with embarrassment, and Juyeon felt a small burst of sympathy for the young king. 

“Please ignore my idiots, your grace,” he said. “They’re still learning what is and isn’t appropriate for courtiers.” 

“Some of us slower than others,” the man with his hand over Beomgyu’s mouth said brightly, and Yeonjun’s embarrassed smile turned fond as he glanced back at him.

“Think nothing of it,” Juyeon said with a grin. “We all need to learn sometime, after all.” 

They were interrupted by a herald pointedly clearing his throat, waiting expectantly at the entrance, and Juyeon raised an eyebrow. 

“Apologies, your grace,” the herald said, bowing to Juyeon and then to Yeonjun. “Your highness.”

“What is it?” Sangyeon prompted, and the herald straightened up, nodding at a soldier to open the doors. 

“Presenting the lord of the dead, keeper of the greatsword Thanatos, master of the bells and king of the south-” 

He was cut off by a surprised cry of joy, a slim figure zooming through the doors and flinging itself at Yeonjun before the king could react. 

Yeonjun and Yeosang went down in a tangle of limbs, Yeonjun’s men all staring down in surprise as their king was crushed. A little confused, Juyeon looked up to see Hongjoong and his men stroll inside, a tiny, fond smile on Seonghwa’s face as his eyes fell upon Yeonjun. 

“It’s good to see you, Juyeon,” Hongjoong said, and Juyeon grinned back. 

“How long’s it been for you?” Juyeon said, striding over to clasp Hongjoong’s hand in greeting. “Two, three weeks?” 

Hongjoong hummed, amused. “Something like that.” 

Juyeon smiled widely at Yunho and Mingi, shaking their hands as well, and found himself pausing when he turned to Seonghwa. 

The master of crows blinked at him slowly, his exquisite face carefully arranged into a neutral expression of politeness. He wore a silver consort’s circlet about his head that seemed to glow in the morning light, matching the crown on Hongjoong’s head. 

“Your grace,” Seonghwa said, bowing respectfully, and Juyeon decided not to push it. 

“Welcome to my home,” he said evenly. “I’m glad you could make it in time for the wedding.” 

“Like we’d miss it after everything,” Yeosang yelped from the floor as Yeonjun flipped them over, almost kneeing him in the crotch. The young king got to his feet, holding out a hand and helping Yeosang stand, and very deliberately avoided Juyeon’s curious look. 

“Please excuse me and my men,” Yeonjun said, inspecting his nails. “We must freshen up before the ceremony.” 

Juyeon watched them go before turning to Yeosang, a question on the tip of his tongue. The other man met his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“May I ask how you two know each other?” 

“Yeonjun had quite an interesting childhood,” Yeosang said simply, and it took Juyeon a moment to realize that was all the answer he was going to get. 

“Anything that should worry me?” he asked, and Hongjoong shook his head, slipping a hand into Seonghwa’s. 

“Nothing that counts as a danger to your kingdom, Juyeon,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.” 

“That is not very reassuring.” 

“Then you’ll just have to trust me,” Hongjoong said with a wink. 

  
  
  
  


The day dragged on, Juyeon pulled in a million different directions as more guests arrived and the final arrangements were made. He met with Chan and the eastern delegation for lunch, Felix a bright, bubbling ball of energy at his husband’s side as he presented Juyeon with a small box of baked s _o_ methings. His newly forged binding chains glittered at his wrists, adorned with tiny rubies and more closely resembling royal adornment than divine imprisonment. 

At Chan’s silent urging, Juyeon accepted the box with a heartfelt _thank you,_ watching in fascination as Felix darted off after Jacob when he spotted him walking past the dining room. 

“He’s in a good mood today,” Juyeon said, setting the box on the table. Chan laughed, affection warming his voice. 

“We got word from Minho and Jisung this morning,” Chan said, pouring himself a glass of wine. “The last flame of the fire fields was extinguished three days ago.” 

“What does that mean for him now?” Younghoon asked, reaching across Juyeon for a basket of rolls. At his side, Chanhee seemed rather sleepy, still recovering from their long journey back to the capital after their honeymoon. 

“The fire fields are what granted Felix his unnaturally long life,” Chan said, swirling his wine thoughtfully. “It’s why they’ve always had a keeper, to keep the flames burning and the power of Ares anchored to this world.” 

It took Juyeon a moment to process what Chan had said. 

“So that means-?” 

Chan nodded, a smile crossing his face. 

“He will begin to age, as nature intends,” Chan said. “The two of us will get to grow old together, after all.” 

Joy for his friend bloomed soft and earnest in Juyeon’s chest, and he and Chan gently clinked their wine glasses together in a silent, celebratory toast. 

As he took a sip, his eyes fell upon Jeongin, completely covered save for one ungloved hand that held Hyunjin’s as they ate. Jeongin, sensing his gaze, looked up from his food, a questioning tilt to his head. 

“Is something puzzling you, your grace?” 

Juyeon cast around for the right way to phrase his question, but Younghoon, as always, seemed to be able to read his mind. 

“Your, ah, _gift,_ from Ares,” Younghoon said. “Will it fade along with Felix’s immortality?” 

Jeongin hummed, biting into a piece of apple and chewing slowly. 

“I’m not sure,” he said eventually. “It was the fields that chose me as a zealot, but I don’t know if my fire depended on them to burn.” 

He smiled, bright and sweet, and Hyunjin wordlessly squeezed his hand.

“Guess we’ll find out.” 

  
  
  


Two hours before the wedding, Juyeon was summoned from the baths to deal with an increasingly unhappy Sunwoo. 

He found his cousin in the small temple on the eastern grounds, arguing loudly with a temple cleric as he was bullied into clothes Juyeon’s aunt definitely had not picked out for him. His hair still dripping water, Juyeon stepped inside and bowed before the statue of Helios at the arched doorway. 

“Do I have to?” Sunwoo whined, trying to wriggle his way out of the gauzy ivory robe a temple assistant was knotting around his waist. A second assistant stood close by, a sash of bright gold in her hands. 

“It’s really not necessary,” Juyeon said, biting back a smile when Sunwoo squeaked as the robe was tightened. “We’ve had plenty of royal weddings without a zealot.” 

“His vows were forsaken when his acolyte chains were broken,” the temple cleric said, face sour. “The least he can do as zealot is give your marriage a god’s blessing.” 

“Can’t Hongjoong do that?” Sunwoo protested, and the cleric rolled his eyes. 

“What does the king of the south have to do with the gods?” he snapped, and Juyeon frantically caught Sunwoo’s eye and shook his head, eyes widening as he tried to get him to shut up. Thankfully, Sunwoo seemed to get the message, his shoulders sagging as he gave up. 

“Nothing, I guess,” he mumbled, and Juyeon heaved a silent sigh of relief. 

“Think of it this way,” he said, reaching to ruffle Sunwoo’s hair affectionately. “Imagine Changmin’s face when he sees you dressed like this.” 

Sunwoo went quiet, a faint pink flush to his face, and the temple assistants hurriedly finished dressing him while they could. A slim circlet of gold was placed carefully over his messy hair, the robe sheer enough to expose the tightly fitted ivory leather waistcoat, shot through with gold thread, corset ties narrowing his already slim waist even further. The ethereal beauty of the zealot’s formal wear was somewhat ruined by Sunwoo’s growing scowl, but Juyeon patted him gratefully on the cheek. 

“Can’t believe I have to bleed at your wedding,” Sunwoo grumbled, and Juyeon cupped Sunwoo’s face in his hands and gently pulled him forward so he could press a kiss to his forehead. 

“It’ll get the temple off your back for a good few years,” Juyeon whispered. “I promise I won’t let them make this into a regular thing.” 

“They’d better not,” Sunwoo said, wrinkling his nose. “For you and Hyunjae, fine. But I am not slicing my hand open every time someone decides they want to fuck with the gods’ permission-” 

Juyeon snorted, and had to quickly arrange his face into something resembling disapproval when the temple cleric made a loud, scandalized noise in the back of his throat. 

“At least you don’t worship the same way Jisung does,” Juyeon pointed out, and Sunwoo went a little green. 

As soon as the sun began to set, guests were allowed into the great hall, Juyeon hearing the muffled talking from a small room off the side. Anxiety welled up like a wave, his throat going dry, and Sangyeon paused, his hands going still where they worked on Juyeon’s cufflinks. 

“You good?” he said lightly, and Juyeon forced himself to nod. 

“Hyunjae - he wouldn’t _really_ cancel the wedding because of his hair, right?” Juyeon asked, feeling a little dumb. Sangyeon smiled, fastening the last cufflink and rumpling Juyeon’s hair. 

“Did you know,” he said, turning and reaching for Juyeon’s dress uniform sash, “the morning of our wedding, Soohee walked in and told me she was leaving me for a seamstress down in the textiles quarter?” 

A bark of surprised laughter escaped Juyeon, and Sangyeon chuckled. 

“That was the seventh person she told me she was leaving me for,” Sangyeon continued. “She was terrified at the thought of marrying into the royal family, even knowing she’d never be queen.” 

“But she did it, regardless of how scared she was, and she’s given me some of the happiest years of my life - not to mention the prettiest girl in the world.” 

Jihae perked up at this, finally putting down her small basket of dried jasmine flowers, and puffed up her skirts proudly. Sangyeon winked at her and she blew her father an enthusiastic kiss. 

“If Hyunjae was really having second thoughts, he would have told you already,” Sangyeon said, pinning the sash in place. “And not through an early morning hair crisis.” 

Juyeon felt a fond smile cross his face, and knelt slightly as Sangyeon fastened the epaulettes to his uniform coat. When he straightened up, his brother’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. A lump appeared in his throat, and Juyeon looked away to fiddle absently with his cuffs. 

There was a knock on the door, and Jacob stuck his head inside, a broad grin on his face. The dark blue eyepatch he wore matched his new general’s uniform perfectly, the gold band of his wedding ring glinting in the flickering candlelight. 

“When you’re ready, your grace,” he said cheerfully. 

“We’re about to become family, Jacob,” Juyeon said. “You can drop the formalities.” 

“I’d rather lose my other eye, your grace.” 

The feeling of hundreds of eyes on him never seemed to get any easier, Juyeon thought as he took his place by the altar, the faint buzz of voices floating through the air as they all awaited Hyunjae’s arrival. Jacob took his place with Juyeon’s younger brothers, patiently ignoring Eric’s and Haknyeon’s excited whispering, and Sangyeon settled by Juyeon’s side, his presence comforting as they waited. 

It was only a few minutes, but to Juyeon’s desperate impatience it felt like an age before the doors were opened, the pianist getting the sign and beginning to play. Jihae was first through the door, carefully scattering small handfuls of jasmine as she walked down the aisle, a devastated pout crossing her face when she ran out of flowers halfway to the altar. A slim hand reached out from the audience to hand her a full basket, and she let out a small, thrilled peep as Chanhee took the empty basket from her. The crowd tittered fondly as they watched her skip the rest of the way, fistfuls of jasmine scattered along the floor in her wake. 

Sangyeon laughed as she launched herself into his arms, and Juyeon pinched her cheek softly in thanks as she squeaked an enthusiastic “congratulations!”. The audience suddenly fell silent, and Juyeon looked up as the piano music swelled. 

Hyunjae in his wedding attire was _devastating_ , guided down the aisle by an elated-looking Kevin. The brothers side by side radiated nothing but pure, unfettered joy, Kevin wearing their family colors while Hyunjae, in a sign of respect, had donned the royal family's cobalt and silver. His sturdy, fitted jacket and trousers hugged every angle and curve of his body, from his broad shoulders and long, elegant legs, to that narrow waist Juyeon’s hands were so fond of resting upon. The gauzy tail of his undershirt fluttered gently behind him, softening the severity of the outfit. Deep blue kohl had been smudged around his eyes, faint shimmer kissing his cheekbones, and the intricate consort's circlet marking him as Juyeon’s sat glimmering about his head. As expected, his hair was no longer the warm gold Juyeon had known him for, now dark grey at the roots that gradually lightened until the ends shone silver. 

Juyeon knew he was probably a little biased at this point, but he would swear to any and all gods listening that he had never seen anyone more earth-shatteringly beautiful, his breath leaving him as the reality of the day finally dawned. Sangyeon curled a furtive hand around Juyeon’s arm and squeezed encouragingly.

"I'm so proud of you," he murmured. "Dad would be, too." Juyeon blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes, finding his mother's face in the audience and sharing a small, secret smile. Kevin bowed as they reached the altar, eyes shining when he straightened, and Juyeon stepped forward to accept Hyunjae’s hand from him.

"I need to pee so badly," Kevin said through gritted teeth, his smile still in place. "Please hurry this up."

Juyeon bit back a snort of laughter, taking Hyunjae’s warm hand in his own. Hyunjae glared at Kevin murderously, but his brother simply pressed a fond kiss to his temple and scuttled off to the side, taking his place next to Jacob.

Juyeon helped Hyunjae step up, feeling his nerves in the way he shook, and it was only the stern expression of Helios's temple representative that stopped him from yanking Hyunjae into his arms and kissing him breathless. 

"Do I look okay?" Hyunjae whispered, anxiety written all over his face, and Juyeon beamed.

"Beautiful," he breathed, unable to keep the reverence out of his voice. Hyunjae went pink at the praise, and Juyeon faintly heard Kevin snicker.

The ceremony flew by, the flash of a blade on Sunwoo’s hand, the small droplets of blood falling onto the marriage bindings, Hyunjae’s hand in his own as their union was confirmed. Before he could fully process it, Juyeon was turning to face their guests as the herald at his side announced Hyunjae with his new titles. There was a pause, the silence broken only by the faint sound of Hyunjae’s nervous breathing, before the crowd erupted into joyous applause. 

They were ushered out of the hall, maid servants and butlers swooping in to remove the rows of chairs and set up for the dinner, and Juyeon found himself being buffeted around from person to person, shaking hands and accepting congratulations from what felt like hundreds of smiling faces. Hyunjae was swallowed up by the crowd, the silver of his hair vanishing from Juyeon’s sight, and Juyeon found himself getting grumpier the longer they were separated. 

Thankfully, the palace staff were as efficient as they were reliable, and dinner was announced before Juyeon could properly lose his temper. He found Hyunjae at the head table, already seated and fighting Kevin over a carafe of sweet wine. 

“It’s my _wedding_ , let me drink!” 

“You are not ruining your wedding night because you’re too tipsy to get his pants off!” 

“Just because _yours_ was a disaster doesn’t mean mine will be!” 

“That’s it, give me the fucking wine-” 

“ _Kevin_ -!”

“ _Hyunjae!_ ” 

“Juyeon!” Juyeon said brightly, laughing when both men whipped around in surprise, Hyunjae turning red and abruptly letting go of the wine. 

“Hi,” Hyunjae said. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Juyeon took his seat, slipping a hand around Hyunjae’s waist as he leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

“Enough to promise you that my trousers aren’t that difficult to remove.” 

“Goodbye,” Kevin said, standing and tugging at Jacob’s arm. “I am not spending the night listening to you two be gross.” 

“Pretty sure you said worse things at our wedding,” Jacob mused, and Kevin gaped at him. 

“You _liked_ it!” Kevin protested, sounding betrayed. 

Jacob leaned down to kiss Hyunjae's forehead, laughing when he half-heartedly batted him away.

"Congratulations on your union, highness," Jacob said, and Hyunjae went pink at the use of his new title. "Enjoy your wedding night."

He fled with his husband as Hyunjae let out a squawk of outrage and tried to throw a dinner roll at him, yelling profanities at them both.

“The next person to make a comment about our _wedding night_ is getting killed on the spot,” Hyunjae said, sinking into his chair, his face scarlet. 

“In their defense,” Juyeon said, pouring some wine for them both. “I’m pretty sure everyone thinks we’ve already, you know-” 

“We were joking!” Hyunjae said, accepting the glass and knocking back a good mouthful. “I only said those things because it was funny watching Kevin try not gag.” 

He held out his glass expectantly, and Juyeon hesitated. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked. “About tonight, I mean?” 

Hyunjae blinked, slowly setting his glass on the table. 

“We don’t _have_ to do anything, you know,” Juyeon continued, putting down the wine and curling his hand around Hyunjae’s. “I’m perfectly happy just spending time with you, with or without clothes-” 

“If you think,” Hyunjae said, “for one moment, that I am going to let you out of our bed for any length of time in the next _week,_ then you have sorely underestimated how much I have been looking forward to tonight.” 

A bolt of heat shot down Juyeon’s spine, settling low in his stomach, and he stared at Hyunjae, dumbstruck, as his new husband gazed impassively back.

“Are we interrupting?” 

Juyeon, fighting the rising blush he could feel on his face, turned to accept the wedding gift from the queen of the western islands. Jihyo eyed him carefully as she handed over the box, her small hoard of consorts all watching from several feet away. 

“Thank you for coming, Jihyo,” Juyeon said, ignoring the hand that decided to rest on his knee. “I know the journey isn’t an easy one.” 

“Me and my girls hadn’t left our shores in years,” she said with a shrug. “A joyous occasion such as this seemed a good enough reason.” 

Juyeon bowed his head in thanks, gritting his teeth when the hand on his leg began its journey upwards. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” Hyunjae murmured quietly as Jihyo and her girls returned to their table. A nobleman and his wife, seeing an opening, were already on their way over, their own gift in his hands. 

“There’s still the formal speeches,” Juyeon said regretfully. “Our first toast, your official renunciation of your old titles, the city guard still has-” 

“How long, Juyeon?” Hyunjae asked again, his eyes dark and expectant. The heat in Juyeon’s belly grew.

“Couple hours?”

“Make it less.”

“Yes, highness.” 

  
  
  


True to his word, less than an hour later found Hyunjae and Juyeon stumbling through their new bedroom’s doors, giggling conspiratorially as Hyunjae kicked the door shut and slammed Juyeon against it. 

“Why does your coat have so many buttons?” Hyunjae said, fingers scrabbling to undo them as Juyeon caught his mouth in a desperate kiss. Juyeon made a vague, non-committal noise, his own hands too busy with Hyunjae’s belt. 

“I’m lodging a formal complaint with your tailor in the morning,” Hyunjae said, and yanked the last few buttons open with a small grunt of effort. Several went flying across the floor, bouncing off to die a dusty death abandoned under a side table. The coat fell to the ground in a heap, Hyunjae shrugging unapologetically when Juyeon broke the kiss to sigh down at it. 

“It took so long to get that made,” he said, and got his own revenge by pulling Hyunjae’s belt the rest of the way, several loops on his trousers breaking open, and tossed it aside, immediately tugging his shirt tails free. He slipped his hands up the back of Hyunjae’s shirt, miles of warm skin beneath his fingers, and Hyunjae shivered and pressed their lips together once more. It took Juyeon several tries to get the shirt off, Hyunjae’s mouth proving to be particularly distracting, and he felt Hyunjae smile into the kiss as he _finally_ pulled it off with a triumphant noise. 

Urgent hands pulled Juyeon to the bed, Hyunjae managing to spin them around without either of them tripping, and he carefully pushed Juyeon down. He paused, one knee on the bed, and Juyeon squirmed a little under his gaze.

“Something wrong?” 

Hyunjae shook his head, a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Never thought we’d actually ever make it this far,” he admitted, and a warmth completely unrelated to their current state of undress filled Juyeon’s chest. He reached out imploringly for Hyunjae’s hand, and brought it up to his lips to brush a kiss against his knuckles. Hyunjae swallowed, dark eyes looking worryingly wet, and he cleared his throat, pulling his hand away.

“Enough of that,” he said brusquely. “I want my husband naked.” 

Juyeon’s trousers were roughly pulled off, Hyunjae cursing as one leg got caught on Juyeon’s foot and swatting him lightly when he laughed. They too were cast to the bedroom floor, leaving him in nothing but his shirt, his underwear, and-

Hyunjae went very, very still.

"You-" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat a few times, eyes fixed on Juyeon’s legs. "You're wearing a garter."

Juyeon glanced down, puzzled by Hyunjae's reaction.

"Yeah?" he said. "It kept my shirt in place - couldn't have it riding up and untucking itself the whole day."

Hyunjae ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a burning red flush to his cheeks. He reached out, but froze before his fingers touched Juyeon's skin.

"Can I?" he whispered, eyes wide. Juyeon nodded, afraid to speak, his heart pounding behind his ribcage. Hyunjae's fingertips gently brushed against the skin above the garter band on Juyeon's right thigh, following it all the way around to between his legs. Juyeon shivered, the light touch sending goosebumps dimpling across his body, but Hyunjae didn't seem to notice. He slipped a finger under the garter, almost mesmerized, and pulled it up away from Juyeon's thigh, before letting it snap back into place. Juyeon yelped at the sudden sting, his legs unconsciously jerking shut, but Hyunjae was faster. One hand on each of Juyeon's thighs, he firmly pushed them apart, gaze fixed on the faint reddening of skin where the garter had snapped back. 

"Hyunjae," Juyeon said, and inwardly winced at how overwhelmed he already sounded.

"Sorry," Hyunjae hummed, and then did it again. This time, the sting of pain erupted on Juyeon's left leg, muscle jumping beneath it as a small, warbling moan escaped Juyeon without his permission. Hyunjae looked up, startled, his lips a deep red and wet from where he'd been chewing on them, his pupils blown wide.

"Didn't know you were such a fan," Juyeon said weakly, and Hyunjae surged forward, pressing his mouth to Juyeon's and kissing him hungrily. Juyeon's arms gave way under the sudden attack, and they went toppling over, Juyeon's back hitting the bed with a soft _flump_ and the full length of Hyunjae's body crashing against his. Juyeon was forced to open his legs even wider to accommodate Hyunjae’s presence, the resulting pressure against his growing erection both overwhelmingly delicious and altogether far too much, far too soon. He grunted and broke the kiss, nudging Hyunjae away from him apologetically. Hyunjae’s beautiful face twisted in guilt, and he made to move off the bed entirely. 

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I should have asked before- before I-"

Juyeon cut him off with a small kiss on the nose, amused as he fell silent and tilted his head in confusion.

"I didn't push you away because I didn't like it," Juyeon said, brushing a second kiss against his cheek, just beneath his eye. "I pushed you away because it was about to end for me _real_ quick, and neither of us want that so early on in the night." 

Hyunjae blinked, eyes widening in realization, before his blush deepened to a burning scarlet and he involuntarily glanced down between Juyeon’s legs, where not even the gartered tails of his shirt could hide just how aroused he was. Hyunjae swallowed heavily and slowly brushed his fingers over the clips of the garter.

“Is this okay?” 

“You don’t have to ask every time-”

“What if I _want_ to ask every time?” 

A warm hand slipped beneath Juyeon’s shirt, lightly skimming over his belly before making its way down. Hyunjae paused, his hand hovering just above where Juyeon desperately needed it the most. 

"May I touch you, your grace?"

Juyeon, heartbeat pounding in his ears, licked his bottom lip and nodded.

"I'd like it very much if you did, your highness."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Years later, when Juyeon was old and grey, and Hyunjae was older and greyer, they took a trip around the smaller towns of the middle kingdom, enjoying their private time together in the twilight of their lives. 

One such trip brought them to a town near the border to the south, the sounds of the river audible from the tiny inn they stopped at. They settled at a small table, the smell of freshly baked bread luring them inside, and Juyeon allowed himself to relax as he sipped some strong, sweet tea. Hyunjae looked fascinated by the inn’s decor, his own tea growing cold in his hands as he looked around, and Juyeon gently brushed his foot with his own. 

“See anything interesting?” he asked, and Hyunjae nodded up at something behind the bar. 

“Does that look familiar to you?” 

Juyeon squinted at the wall, the dimness of the inn not helping his already struggling eyesight. 

“What am I meant to be looking at?” 

“The symbol behind the stove,” Hyunjae said, pointing. “Does it- does it not look like-?”

“Good afternoon, your grace.” 

They both jerked at the sudden, bright voice, a young man appearing out of nowhere carrying a tray. It took Juyeon a moment to realize what he’d said, and he glanced at Hyunjae, a faint frown creasing his brow. 

“Did you- what did you say?” Juyeon said. Something about the man’s smile set off a faint memory in the back of Juyeon’s mind, the warmth in his eyes and a faint scent of a thunderstorm bringing Juyeon back to a first meeting, a long, long time ago. He blinked, and the man’s face came into focus, features completely unfamiliar. 

“Just making sure you’re both good here,” he said, the smile nowhere to be seen. He looked a little puzzled at their surprise, glancing over his shoulder at another young man behind the counter. 

“We’re fine,” Hyunjae said after a moment, sounding a little winded, and they watched him retreat back to his coworker, the two bowing their heads together and very obviously discussing their strange behavior. 

The two young men watched them for the duration of their stay, the shorter one not even trying to hide his curiosity as he stared at them while wiping down the counter. When Juyeon stood to pay, the waiter came hurrying over, offering his arm to help both Juyeon and Hyunjae to their feet. 

“Thank you, young sir,” Hyunjae said politely, and the man blinked in surprise, before turning his head to his companion. 

“See that?” he said, sounding smug. “I’m a _sir_!” 

“What you are is a pain in my ass,” the other man said dryly, and Hyunjae hurriedly muffled his snort of laughter as they made their way to the door. 

“Please visit again!” the waiter said with a smile, waving them off. The other man appeared behind him, leaning up on his toes so he could rest his chin on his shoulder. Something about the two of them in that moment struck Juyeon as painfully familiar, a sense of dejavu leaving him momentarily breathless, before it vanished just as quickly as it had arrived. 

He and Hyunjae climbed carefully back into their carriage, several long hours of journey ahead of them, but something made Juyeon glance back one last time, just before their driver urged the horses into motion. 

The waiter had crouched down, allowing the other young man to climb onto his back, and the two stood swaying gently in the doorway of the inn as they watched the carriage depart.

He caught Juyeon’s eye, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled, and vanished from sight as the carriage turned a corner, leaving nothing behind but the faintest sound of bells. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shirt garters are sexy change my mind


End file.
